A Family Affair
by atruwriter
Summary: With deathly nightmares, a suspicious godbrother, a fawning father, and confusing feelings for Granger, Draco Black is overwhelmed. Becoming his real self is harder than Draco ever thought it would be, but love would guide him. Sum inside. DHr
1. 1

**Rating**: _T, possible M at some points (warning will be placed at top if M is present)_  
**Genre**: _Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance_  
**Warnings**: _AU, Past Abuse, Violence, Minor Language, Minor Sexual Situations (later)_  
**Relationships**: _TBA next chapter  
_**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing but in insane thoughts and Elly  
_**Summary**: _Raised as a Malfoy, Sirius' estranged son, Draco Black, wants nothing more but vengeance for his murdered mother and the loss of his father when he was a baby. But becoming his real self is harder than just dropping the mask he so carefully keeps up. And with deathly nightmares, a suspicious godbrother, a fawning father, and confusing feelings for Granger, he has a lot on his plate. Point of view changes to suit characters and plot line._

**_A Family Affair  
_**-**1**-

Harry couldn't understand it; it only recently became noticeable. He had been using a pensieve to look through the past; watching as the battle at the Department of Mysteries played out in the silvery pool before him. He had almost lost Sirius that night, but his godfather had put up a silent shield, blocking the jet of light that spilled from Bellatrix's wand; or at least that's what he thought had happened. He had watched his memory over and over, knowing he saw a shock of blonde hair and a wand off to the side of his godfather. No matter how many times he watched it, it never changed. Draco Malfoy had been at the Department with them, and for some reason Harry couldn't understand, he had put up the shield for Sirius Black, saving him in the process. Just as quickly as he'd come, he had disappeared though.

After being saved, Sirius was able to get the upper hand on his insane cousin enough to get away from the path of the dark veil behind him. While the fight had not ended with either dying, it had blown up into a painful mess. Sirius was wounded badly and just hardly made it out of the Department with his life. Lestrange had almost lost her arm and was in a bad way when she had been taken away by a fellow Death Eater. Sirius had just hardly survived, reminding Harry of how violent his life really was. The people around him were constantly in danger, and the one person who felt like family had almost been taken away from him. He had no idea how he could've made it through losing his godfather; Sirius happened to be an important figure in his life; father-like really.

Because his godfather was such an obvious supporter of the Light side, Draco's helping him just did not make any sense. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the cobwebs and make sense of everything, but there was no reason for him to save Sirius. If Harry really thought about it, Sirius was Draco's cousin, but Sirius had been removed from the Black family and Draco wouldn't dare go against that ruling. Plus, Bellatrix is his aunt too, and she'd probably been in his life the whole time, so why would he go against her to save the uncle he doesn't care for. And what was he doing there in the first place?

Recently, just before the summer, Dumbledore had been killed and Harry still believed it was a great deal Draco's fault. Though he hadn't been able to kill the Headmaster himself, he had still come to do so but failed. As he paced his bedroom, Harry shook his head over and over, trying to understand what had happened. He had always believed, for good reason, that Draco Malfoy was a dark and horrid person. So why had he spared Dumbledore and saved Sirius? What sense did it make in Draco's confused mind?

The alarm clock on his end table began ringing loudly, announcing midnight in all of its incredible glory. He was now officially seventeen, which meant he no longer had to stay with the Dursley's. As if someone had been watching the seconds on their watch, the doorbell rang downstairs. Gathering his things, Harry couldn't held the satisfied grin and happy sigh that escaped him. He used his wand to undo every single lock outside his door; being able to do magic was invigorating.

Making his way down, he was greeted by the angry purple face of none other than Vernon Dursley, who was sputtering and pointing at the man outside the door. "You and your kind are not allowed in my house!" he exclaimed, waving his pudgy arms around frantically.

Giving a short laugh, Sirius Black stepped in through the door. "Have no worries, Dursley, I don't plan to ever return, and neither does my godson here. Isn't that right Harry?" he asked, grinning up at him.

"Definitely," Harry said, hurrying down the stairs with his trunk and Hedwig's cage in his hands.

He made his way to the door, sparing a glance at his now huffing uncle. His aunt Petunia stood in the background, her hand wrapped around her housecoat, keeping it closed. She looked utterly ridiculous with her curlers in and a look of shock on her pinched face. Looking around the house one last time, his eyes landed on the cupboard momentarily before moving up the stairs to see his cousin, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his fat fist.

Years had been spent with this _family_ of people who did nothing more than put him down at every turn. He had lived through being spoken to as less than dirt; he had grown up sleeping and practically living in a cupboard beneath the stairs. Number Four Privet Drive held only bad memories and sad dreams. Lies were imprinted in the walls, hate made up the people inside of it, and he wanted nothing more to do with any of it. He didn't want to think of the cupboard ever again, he never wanted to remember a single meal spent in discomfort with the three people there, and he wished never to consider working in the back garden ever again. He wanted to walk away, to forget it all; in fact, if were allowed, he'd obliviate himself of the whole thing.

"I hope you know, that you were certainly the worst family I have ever had the indecency to know. Were I not incredibly happy to be leaving, I'd gladly stay here to list off the many reasons why you are horrid people." With that, he followed his godfather, who was cheerily laughing into the night, and crossed the lawn to stand on the walkway by the street.

"How does it feel, Harry?" Sirius asked, breathing in a deep gust of air. "The freedom," he told him, shaking his head. "Does it not make the air smell fresher?"

Chuckling, Harry nodded, a grin plastered on his face. "It feels... wonderful," he told him, feeling a swell in his chest. He had been waiting for this day for as long as he could remember. No longer would he have to live with the Dursley's; he was free.

"Come along then," Sirius said, waving his arm. "We should be on our way home."

"Home," Harry repeated, nodding.

One word held so much in it, he was sure his face would break from smiling excitedly. The Dursley house had never been a home; not on his best day there, when he was given and extra scrap and they simply ignored him instead of putting him down. The Burrow had come in close, possessing an incredible resemblance to what he'd always thought a home should be like. With the family that lived inside of it and the odd schematics of the house, he couldn't help but love it. However, part of him had always felt like someone walking in on something. Like he had ventured into someone else's home, rather than his own. But he had a great feeling about living with Sirius, he really thought that Grimmauld Place would become his first home.

"There's somebody you should meet actually," his godfather said, suddenly looking incredibly nervous. "Did I ever tell you I was married, Harry? he wondered, looking over at him briefly.

Wiping the surprised look from his face as quickly as he could, Harry shook his head. "No, I had no idea."

For some reason, Harry had always thought of Sirius as being that ultimate bachelor type. The kind of guy who dates off and on, believes in love but never finds it, and perhaps even had someone but don't anymore. He could see him growing old with nothing but fun and family around him, never married, no children. But then, as he said it, he thought it through. If he could think of Sirius in a fatherly way, why couldn't he take on that part? Why wouldn't he have some wonderful wife waiting on him to get out? They had never really discussed anything but himself and his parents, so Harry had never really thought of Sirius having his own family. It was an interesting concept.

Smiling, Sirius nodded. "Her name was Eltanin, but she preferred Elly," he explained, sighing. "We met in my seventh year, she was a Slytherin." He chuckled lightly at Harry's shocked face, before continuing. "Do you remember when you told me that you asked the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor, because you didn't want to be Slytherin?" he wondered.

"Yes," Harry replied, nodding. "He said I would do best in both houses, but Slytherin could be better suited for me."

"Right, but you wanted to be in Gryffindor because you'd heard horrible things about Slytherin." Harry nodded, which made Sirius shrug. "Elly's parents were purebloods through and through; she wouldn't be able to go through the ridicule and disappointment her parents would've placed on her had she gone to a different house. So she convinced the Sorting Hat to put her in Slytherin."

Nodding, accepting the explanation, Harry asked, "What's she like?"

"Beautiful, with blonde hair that reached her shoulders, soft and straight. Almond shaped blue eyes that just seemed to shine whenever she laughed. And the most amazing smile, with these beautiful pink lips and perfect white teeth. By Merlin, she was funny too," he said, grinning. "Sarcastic and witty; you could never say anything without hearing a quip directed right back. And intelligent beyond words, she was always beating me in my studies. Not that I was exactly trying, but it was as if she worked just to get one grade better than me. She was just below Lily in her grades, which is one of the reasons she didn't make Headgirl our last year."

"How long have you been married?" Harry queried, crossing his arms as the night air began to chill.

"We married just out of school," he admitted, nodding. "She- It's a long story," he said, quietly. "In any case, it's getting late, I'm sure you're tired. So why don't we continue this tomorrow, after you've woken up," he suggested.

Though Harry was very interested in knowing more about Sirius' life before Azkaban and the wife he would be meeting soon, he let it go and agreed to wait until the morning. A short moment later, Sirius apparated them to outside the gates of number 13 Grimmauld Place. He seemed much more tired and quiet than he had before, and Harry couldn't help but wonder why he had suddenly lost all of his happiness from before. He looked much better than he had when Harry had last seen him. He had cut his hair and washed it, thankfully, along with a nice shave, he was seeming much more youthful, matching his personality. His face still possessed a haunting quality, but Harry had seen him without it when he had been speaking of freedom. Perhaps it was the talk of his wife that was depressing, but that didn't make sense really. He sounded as if he truly loved her and Harry assumed that was who he was meeting. So why would she bring him despair?

Opening the door to the house, Harry was surprised to see that it had been cleaned up immaculately. No longer was it dilapidated, nor was it dusty, dirty, or smelly. Paint had been put up on the walls, a bright white colour in the front hall. The banister and stairs looked like new, leading up to the second floor. Looking to each side, he was greeted with new furniture, rugs, and a warm, homey sense. "This place..." Harry said in awe.

"Yes, it looks much better, doesn't it?" Sirius asked, gaining back that happiness from earlier, not for long though.

"It's incredible," Harry told him, grinning.

"We've been redecorating, ever since Dumbledore... we've had more time to spend together," Sirius explained, sounding quite vague really. The despair returned, but now Harry knew why; the late Headmaster caused this feeling, but he had nothing to do with Sirius' earlier upset. "If you're hungry, you know where the kitchen is. It's been stocked up and cleaned, thanks mostly to Molly, really," he said with a brief chuckle.

"I'm starved," Harry said, nodding. "But I think I'll put my things away first."

"Right, the second room on the left is occupied," Sirius warned him. "I wouldn't-- You would do well not to go there right now. It will all be explained in the morning," he told him, his eyes darting off.

Harry hadn't realized there was anything being hidden from him, or that he should be questioning something. He had assumed that all was good now; they were going to live together and the house was looking incredible. What was wrong with the situation? Was Elly not interested in having him there? But then, why wasn't she staying in Sirius' room with him? Were they having problems? Was he the problem? There were so many questions and many of them worried him, but he knew Sirius didn't want to talk about it.

"All right," he agreed, looking slightly apprehensive about how his godfather was acting.

Hurrying up the stairs, he walked into the third bedroom, grinning at the clean and regal look of it all. A giant bed lay in the center, with a dresser and a wardrobe sitting adjacent to it. A tall bookcase was placed near the door, just waiting to be filled, which he was sure his best friend Hermione would gladly do. Putting his suitcase on the floor, Harry walked to the far window, opening it and Hedwig's cage. "There you go, girl," he said, quietly.

Backing up, he fell backwards on the bed, taking in the unbelievably comfortable feeling. He could've fallen asleep right then, were it not for the grumbling of his stomach, telling him a delicious meal cooked by Molly was waiting in the fridge to be eaten. Gathering himself up, he decided to change into his pajamas before going down for a late night meal. His oversized jeans and baggy t-shirt were suffocating in all of their huge size. Yawning, he made his way out of his room and down the stairs, noting that they weren't creaky or unstable. He glanced back for a moment, looking at the second bedroom door with curiosity, but then continued on his way.

He didn't want to pry, he wanted to trust that Sirius would explain everything the next day. After all, he had no reason to think Sirius would put him in danger by inviting someone to stay with them who wasn't a good person. Sirius was one of the most trustworthy people he knew, so he decided to ignore the jump in his stomach that told him to turn the handle and see who resided inside. For once, he pushed his curiosity aside and listened to what someone had told him. He only hoped he was making the right decision in not looking behind the door.

After rifling through the very full fridge, he managed to put together a huge and delicious meal that would have Ron watering at the mouth. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he propped his feet up on the chair parallel to him and dug his fork into the food in front of him. He had used his wand to warm it, which he found much more useful than a microwave. A glass of pumpkin juice sat across from him, chilled and calling to him. He ate leisurely, enjoying that there was no one around to tell him he was taking advantage of their hospitality. This was his home now; his and Sirius', a real family home. This is what he'd been wanting ever since he realized Sirius was his godfather and actually cared about him. Hopefully, Elly would enjoy his company too, and they'd all grow to become a complete and happy family. Though Sirius and Elly would never make up for his real parents, he would certainly enjoy the feeling of having someone like them.

Nearly an hour later, he had tossed the garbage and rinsed his dishes, full and satisfied. Leaving the kitchen, he had made it to the dining room again when he heard voices near the stairs causing him to stop. He knew he shouldn't listen, but his curiosity got the best of him. He didn't risk looking around the corner, as he was sure people would be upset with his eavesdropping. He just turned his ears up to hear and tried the best not to make any noise.

"He's never going to understand," an urgent whisper could be heard. The walls muffled the voices, so Harry wasn't sure if it was a boy or a girl speaking. He could however, make out his godfather's voice only because it sounded much deeper and he assumed.

"He will," Sirius replied, certainty obvious in his tone. "We'll explain it to him, all of it, and he'll understand. I know he will; he has to."

"You're not listening," the person replied, sounding worried. "You don't know what I've done to him. You don't-- It's difficult to understand, even for you. I did a lot of things that I won't be forgiven for. That I _shouldn't _be forgiven for."

"You didn't do that. You didn't-- It's not your fault. You were put in a situation where you really had no control of it. It's partly my fault, I shouldn't have--" Sirius cut himself off, sighing. "If your mother was still--"

"Stop it. I don't want to talk about her," the unknown person replied, sounding upset and annoyed. "She's dead and gone and no matter how much you apologize and tell me that things would've been different, they're not. Nothing is going to change, she isn't going to come back," he half-shouted.

"Shh," Sirius chastised. "Do you want to alert him now? We haven't even had a chance to explain things to him. He'd be beyond angry if he were to walk in right now."

"He has reason to be," they said. "Did you tell him anything? Did you warn him at all?" they wondered.

"I- I told him a little about Elly and I told him he'd be meeting someone. I said everything would be figured out tomorrow," Sirius replied, quietly.

"Great. He probably thinks he's going to meet her," they said, annoyed. "This is just- Ugh- I don't why I came back here."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Sirius told him, gruffly. "We've made progress, haven't we? We enjoyed ourselves putting the house together. And we spoke about your mother... You need to-"

"Don't tell me what I need," they cut him off, angrily. "I don't know why you have to keep bringing her up. I don't want to talk about her. I just want to forget all about it. Just leave it alone," the mystery person told him, forcefully.

"She is your mother," Sirius said, his voice raising. "You can't ignore the fact forever. We're going to have to talk about it sometime. Just because you grew up with someone else, does not mean that she didn't love you. Dammit, why do you have to be so stubborn about this? We've hardly ever get to spend anytime together, this was your only place to go. It solves your problem of being wanted by both sides, and I thought we'd finally be able to talk this all out. But whenever you come near me, it's like we're back to day one. I'm your-"

"I know what you are," they interrupted. "And I know you haven't been around for years. I only did this stupid thing for you and look where it got me."

"I never told you to do this, I never wanted you to be a part of this," Sirius told him, his tone sharp. "It's not my fault that you decided to take it upon yourself to get revenge on Voldemort."

"I had no other choice," they spat. "It was either that or join him and I think it's pretty obvious which one I thought was better. The only problem was that I had to join him if I wanted to take him down and look where the bloody hell that got me."

"Watch your mouth," Sirius told him, not sounding nearly as chastising as he should.

"Or what, you'll ground me?" they wondered.

"Why are you being so defensive?" his godfather asked, sounding slightly hurt. "I'm here now. I'm offering you a home and a place to stay safe. Why do you have to get so damn angry with me all the time?"

"Because you brought _him_ here," they whisper-shouted. "How safe am I here, when he lives in the room next to mine?" they asked, worriedly. "Do you have any idea what he's going to do to me when he realizes who I am?"

"I told you, I'll explain everything and he'll- He'll understand, I know he will," Sirius assured, sighing. "Please, will you just... Will you just let this play out? Put your bags back in your room, it's not safe out there for you."

"He draws his wand, and I'm gone," they told him, firmly.

There was brief silence before Sirius relented with a loud exhale. "Fine."

A rustle could be heard which Harry attributed to the mystery person picking up their bags and walking up the stairs. Harry was just about to leave the dining room when he heard the voice again. "Dad?" the person called out.

"Yes," Sirius asked.

"I- About mum," they said quietly. "I never meant to..."

"I know," he replied, quietly. "It's hard to talk about her when she wasn't there. It's hard to care... Then again, I wasn't there. On the other hand, you haven't exactly taken well to me."

"It's difficult," they told him, sighing. "But... I'll try to be less defensive," they vowed.

"I'm glad," Sirius replied.

"Goodnight," they said, making their way up the rest of the stairs.

"Goodnight, son," Sirius whispered.

Harry could hear the loud footsteps of his godfather as he left the main area. Harry leaned back against the wall, confused. "He... He has a son," he breathed.

After a few moments, Harry managed to make his way up to his room to crawl into his bed. The former comfort he had been feeling seemed lost as his mind whirled with confusion. He had so many questions; why did Sirius' son think he was so against him? What had he done to get to Voldemort? What happened to Sirius' wife and why was his son so angry with her? What did that make Harry now? Was he less welcome? His thoughts ran amuck in his mind, causing him to stay awake for hours.

When he finally fell asleep, he found himself dreaming about Sirius juggling three objects; one was a snake, the other a snitch, and the last a miniature lion. He was grinning out at Harry and looking back and forth between him and a faceless boy. "So many choices," he would mutter. "So many decision to be made." But he'd never decide, he'd just keep juggling and look back between them. Sometimes lingering on one or the other, as if he was picking which he would choose to be... Harry never knew; perhaps it was his subconscious questioning whether or not Sirius could care for him as a son if he already had one. All he knew was that he hated the juggling, hated that he wasn't the only one living with Sirius. Elly he could understand, could accept, but now he'd have to fight to be cared for. Would this be like at the Dursley's house? Where they lavished Dudley but ignored him? Sirius wouldn't do that, would he?

He woke up late the next morning, leaning into afternoon really. For a long moment, he simply stared at the open window where Hedwig's cage sat open and empty. Finally, pushing his blanket off, he changed into some of his cousin's hand-me-down's, thinking shopping was definitely in order. He stood by his bedroom door for awhile, fighting with whether or not he was ready to meet his godbrother. Finally, inhaling deeply, he decided if he could face Voldemort, a godbrother should be no problem. Opening the door, he stepped out, noticing that the house was incredibly quiet. Walking downstairs slowly, he called out Sirius' name, wondering if perhaps they'd gone out.

"In here, Harry," Sirius called, appearing in the entrance to the living room. He appeared nervous for a moment before he threw his arm back, asking him to go in. "There's somebody I'd like you to meet."

Swallowing, Harry nodded, forcing his feet to walk into the living room. He was met with the back of a boy who stood at about 6 ft. He had browney-blonde hair, falling straight to around the bottom of his ears. His shoulders were stiff, a crisp white shirt over them, untucked above his black pants. His arms were crossed as he stared at a picture on the fireplace shelf.

"H-Harry," Sirius stuttered, clearing his throat. "This is my son," he said, walking across the room to stand in the center. "I know I've never mentioned him-"

The boy scoffed in the background, his shoulders raising slightly.

Sirius winced. "But there's an explanation for that."

There was something familiar about him that Harry just couldn't figure out; maybe it was his voice, or his profile, he couldn't be sure. It might just be the feeling he was getting, but he had the distinct thought that he knew this person. It would explain why the boy was so worried about him, they apparently attended school together. He couldn't be a Gryffindor, or he'd have to be younger. Harry couldn't be much older though, the boy looked to be his age, at least as far as he could tell from the back. There was just something about him that screamed familiarity.

Harry nodded, stuffing his hands in the large pockets of his pants. "To be honest, I thought I'd be meeting Elly," he managed to say, feeling as if his throat was cut off by a large ball. He was nervous; about who the boy was, whether they'd get along, what it all meant.

"That's a little hard seeing as she died sixteen years ago," the boy said, his voice tight. "But dad doesn't like talking about that part of her _life_, only the good part."

Sighing, Sirius' face took on a hurt expression as he stared as his son's back. "Will you please turn around and greet Harry?" he asked, sounding defeated.

"I don't know, does he have his wand?" the boy asked, his hand lifting to run over the shelf.

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes slightly as he pulled his wand from the belt of his pants, tossing it to the sofa near him. "Not anymore," he replied for his godfather.

The boys back tensed for a moment, he turned slightly, glancing at Harry from the corner of his eyes, showing silver. Finally, he turned around completely, leaning back against the fireplace with his arms still crossed. "How goes it, Potter?" he asked, a faint smirk over his mouth.

Harry felt his stomach lurch and his jaw clench. "Malfoy?" he asked, staring at him confused.

----------------------------------------------------------

**A/N **_Drop all of those sharp objects! lol. I have managed to keep up my other stories and I will do the same for this! I have abandoned you guys yet? No. So, I hope you enjoyed this and I completely promise that **BITTT **and **Growing** are still in full swing. I also have another DHr and an HHr story that I'm working out the kinks to. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I'd love to get some feedback. Please review, it's greatly appreciated!_

_Much Love,  
-_**Amanda**


	2. 2

**Relationships: **_Draco/Hermione, Sirius/Harry "father"-son, Sirius/Draco father-son, Harry/Hermione/Ron friendship, Draco/Harry friendship, Sirius/TBA and possible Harry relationship, I'm not sure yet. Suggestions? (Sorry, **not** a GW/HP writer)_

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_Great beginning! I'm glad that you've brought Sirius back...he was always one of my favorite characters. But you couldn't have killed Bellatrix off, huh? Yay for Harry! He's finally of age, finally able to do magic (that's going to be useful if he runs into dementors or something) outside of school, and finally able to leave the Dursleys! I would have paid big money to see Vernon and Petunia's expression...that would have given me a good laugh. You seem to enjoy giving Sirius a spouse in your stories. Only this time, he's the one still living, instead of Falesha in BIT. Interesting change! Sirius and Eltanin are like the reverse of the traditional Draco and Hermione. With S&E, he's in Gryffindor while she's in Slytherin, and vice versa for D&Hr. So Sirius has a son, eh? This should be amusing...and it's Draco! Is this like BITTT, where he grew up with people he thought were his parents? How long will it take them to warm up to each other? I mean, they are...godbrothers? lol. Your writing has already captivated me. I'll be watching out for this story! Great start!_" - **_Princess de la Plume_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter one**: _So this is love, Slythrin Corps., Shaggy37, DragonSlayer18, PiperPaigePhoebe01, GotaLuvHarry, Bloody Red Butterfly, xAmortentia, ), Kandygurl4, ANNiEEx3, lele07, **cle be, Miss Vix,** **Hyuga Kyuuketsuki,**_ and _especially** Princess de la Plume, **_and**_ galloping-goose_**.

**_A Family Affair_**

-**2**-

Harry felt his stomach lurch and his jaw clench. "Malfoy?" he asked, staring at him confused.

"Formerly," Draco said, shrugging. "He's actually my second cousin, by marriage," he told him, sighing. "I'm sure Sirius can tell you the _fantastic_ tale," he said, rolling his eyes. He pushed off the ledge to walk over to the couch across from them. Throwing himself down, he put his legs up and stared off somewhere, his face impassive but his arms tight against his chest. He was usually quite good at hiding any show of emotion beside anger or hate, but it was becoming obvious how much he didn't want to share his life, especially with Harry.

Harry felt his feet itching to move to the sofa near him as his fingers twitched with the need to hold his wand. "How-- How is this at all possible?" he asked, shaking his head.

A part of him was angry; he felt like hitting Draco, as if it were all his fault that his dream of having a family had been squashed. And in some ways it was, but then he had so much to think about, so much to wonder, that he was unable to unleash his anger. There were a million questions surrounding this new found information and while Harry really wanted to hurt Draco, he was still far too curious.

Looking utterly lost, Sirius sat down in an armchair, sighing. "While Lily and James were getting married, so were Elly and I. A few months before Lily had you, Elly gave birth to Draco. You know all about what happened a year later, when Voldemort had killed your parents because of Pettigrew while I was charged with deceiving them. Well-"

"This is where it gets good," Draco interrupted, scowling.

Sirius glanced at him, frowning. "When I was taken away, Elly went to Lucius Malfoy. She-- She really thought I had sold them out, and she was-- She--"

"She asked him to help get her husband out of Azkaban, she thought since he was a follower they would help him," Draco cut in, turning to them with dark eyes. "But Sirius didn't help, Pettigrew did, and Lucius knew that. So he killed her, after laughing in her face for thinking she could ask that of him." He licked his lips, looking pale. "She brought me with her, hoping for sympathy I'm sure, and Narcissa managed to convince Lucius to let her raise her motherless nephew as her own," he drawled, sounding bored, but appearing angry.

"Narcissa wrote me, telling me that she was going to take care of Draco while I was..." Coughing, he looked away for a brief moment.

There was so much to take in, it all seemed so unreal. The godfather that was fully and completely for the Light side had a son; not just any son, really, but Draco Malfoy. Of course, he wouldn't really be Malfoy, would he? No, he'd be Black. It caused Harry to wonder a number of things; was he on his side? Did he consider Sirius to be his real father? Did he bare any feelings at all for the Malfoy's? Would he trade them in to get back in with the Malfoy's? Was this all a ploy so Draco could bring information, or even Harry, back to Voldemort? How long had he known? How had he figured it out? How long had Sirius and he been speaking? How did Sirius feel about Draco? Deciding this was a lot to throw out, he settled on one question.

"So how did you find out?" Harry asked, glancing at Draco briefly.

"Narcissa told me right before I went to Hogwarts," he replied, shrugging. "And I decided revenge was in order."

That meant all through Harry's six years, he'd been fighting with his own godbrother, which Draco was bound to have known. All that time, he had no idea that he was Sirius' son. Of course, he didn't know who Sirius was until third year. But if he really was interested in being a Black rather than a Malfoy, why had he continued his tirade in school? He was always throwing the name out, sounding proud and sure of himself. He acted better than everyone; proving that he was no more than a stuck up jerk. What if he was completely happy to be a Malfoy the whole time, but when things got rough, he had to turn to Sirius for help? Perhaps that was all that this was, and it wasn't just some boy who wanted to know his real father.

"Revenge?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing.

Draco stood up, sighing. His expression was schooled not to show emotion, but his eyes were rather telling of the anger he was feeling, as was his pacing. "Not only did I have to grow up with Lucius as a father, but my mother was killed. Though she was rather distrusting, wasn't she? You'd think she'd have more-"

"Enough," Sirius told him, sharply.

To Harry's surprise, Draco actually stopped talking, but shrugged as if to show his rebellion against Sirius. "I decided to keep playing the Malfoy card, and told Narcissa not to tell Lucius that I knew. Kept up appearances by being the biggest prat known to Hogwarts, which I'm sure you can agree to," he said, smirking.

"Yes, you're _acting_ abilities are superb," Harry drawled, cocking his brow.

"Lucius was a good teacher, I was a fast learner, what can I say?" he replied, shrugging. "Because I appeared to be such a _wonderful_ supporter of Voldemort and his side of things, I was practically guaranteed a spot in his army." He nodded, his face turned as if in deep thought. His fingers tapped against his arm, his eyes falling to his forearm. Harry briefly wondered if he'd already been given the Dark Mark, or if he were supposed to get it after...

"As long as you killed Dumbledore," Harry said, through gritted teeth.

Draco stopped, his step faltering and his mask of no concern slipped, allowing a haunting look to pass his features. "Yes. Him," he murmured, swallowing. "I--" Clearing his throat, he glanced at him briefly.

Sirius looked as if he wanted to say something comforting, but he kept his mouth shut.

"I did what I had to do," Draco told him, stiffly. "If I wanted to get close to Voldemort, then I had to prove myself. You know, I had been feeding information off to that old man for years," he said, his pacing picking back up. "Ever since I found out, I went into his office and told him that whatever happened, whatever things looked like, I was fully and completely my--" He stopped, glancing at Sirius for a moment.

"His father's son," Sirius finished, smiling briefly. "Dumbledore told me when I met him in your third year." Looking over to Harry, he nodded, "From then on, he told Dumbledore of anything he overhead Lucius saying in regards to Voldemort. He wasn't able to tell him about the final attack between him and Snape however, as Snivellus was keeping a watchful eye on him constantly. When it came down to Draco actually doing his 'job,' he wasn't able to."

"You were there Potter," Draco said, staring at a far wall, standing stiff and still. "In any case, after Snape killed Dumbledore, Voldemort knew I hadn't done what I was told. So I did the only thing I could..."

"Returned to your real father," Harry muttered, shaking his head.

The dark angry feelings he had been harboring for Draco grew inside of him again. Dumbledore, one of Harry's mentors, a true and good man, had been killed. For what? For Draco's vengance? For Voldemort to prove a point, and Snape to show his true colours? Was Harry supposed to understand now? Was he supposed to forgive Draco for what he had done, because he was Sirius' son, and doing it to get closer to Voldemort? What kind of an excuse was that? This didn't erase anything; if it changed anything, it furthered Harry's hate for him. He was trying to avenge his parents, and the life that was forced upon him, but he would never sacrifice an innocent life.

Clearing his throat, Harry looked over at him, trying to unclench his fists but failing. "So this is where you've been hiding since it happened?"

"Unfortunately," Draco sighed.

"He's not nearly as rude as he comes off," Sirius said, grinning. "He's just self conscious," he assured. "So he uses his wit and snarky comebacks to cover it."

Draco turned, piercing his father with a withering look. "I'm not self conscious," he told him, frowning. "I've just been raised to be defensive and ready for any attack, even if it's verbal."

"You'll notice he always tries to have the last say too," Sirius commented, nodding. "It's a side effect of growing up in the Malfoy home. I've slowly been chipping away at it, but he's really quite an enigma." He seemed to regard his son for a moment, his eyes thin with thinking.

Harry could only wonder what was running through his mind. It was quite obvious that Sirius cared about Draco, even if they weren't the closest father and son. There was something there; perhaps a longing to fill the place he was supposed to over the years. Even if Draco was trying to hide his own emotions, the mask he possessed could only hide so much. With the Malfoy riches, he could've disappeared to anywhere. Instead, he went to his father for help; that's saying something, isn't it?

"Yes, well this enigma really hates being talked about when he's in he same room," Draco shot back, glaring.

Everything seemed to click in his head then; all of the questions he'd been wondering when he paced his bedroom at the Dursley's. "That's why you saved him," Harry said, his eyes unfocused as he nodded.

"What's he going on about?" Draco asked, his brow lifting with question.

"At the Department of Mysteries," Harry explained, shaking his head and looking up. "When you--"

"No," Draco interrupted, glancing back and forth from Sirius to Harry. Clearing his throat, he shook his head at him, giving him a pleading look.

"Who?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowing. "Draco wasn't at the Department battle," he said, shaking his head. "He had direct orders not to go anywhere near it."

"But..." Harry stared at Draco confused, before finally sighing. "Never mind. It's not important."

"All right," Sirius said, not looking convinced. Shaking his head slightly, he stared at Harry for a moment, looking apprehensive. "This must all be very overwhelming."

"No, why would it be?" he asked, sounding dazed. "My school enemy is my godfather's son," he said, shrugging. "The boy who constantly belittled me and my friends is my god_brother_," he muttered. "The prejudice son of Lucius Malfoy is really the child of my godfather, and he's been working as a spy for the Light side, even though he's been acting vehemently against it. This is just... Is anybody else feeling a little sick?" he asked, glancing up.

Snorting, Draco shook his head. "I told you he wouldn't take it well."

"Would you?" Sirius asked, staring at him.

"I wouldn't throw up," he muttered.

"I'm not going to throw up," Harry said sharply. Exhaling loudly, he shook his head. "You look just like Lucius though," he said.

"He actually looks a lot like his mother," Sirius told him, nodding. "But you're right, Malfoy put a charm on his appearance, which is why his hair was platinum blonde before, and his skin was so pale. You'll notice his real colour is more a dark blonde, verging on brown," he said, pointing up at it. "He has my eyes, or at least my eyes used to be silver, now they're a rather plain grey. He has Elly's smile, but you'll be a genius if you manage to get that to show up. I've only seen it once and it was quickly covered by a scowl. He smirks quite a bit though, I'm guessing that's another Malfoy trait," he deduced, tapping his chin.

Draco turned, scowling at them both with thin, unamused eyes.

"I have noticed he smirks quite a bit," Harry agreed, nodding.

Standing up, Sirius walked to the fireplace and picked up the frame Draco had been staring at. "This is Elly here," he said, turning back to hand it to Harry. "She was seven months pregnant at the time," he told him, smiling.

Taking the frame, Harry stared down at the beautiful woman before him. Her golden brown hair was wrapped up in an elegant twist atop her head, with a few stray strands hanging near her cheeks. She was swathed in a long, white dress with faint grey lines running down it. The bottom half of her dress opened at a slit mid thigh, falling in layers back behind her regally. A large round extension of her stomach was very obvious; her hands were wrapped around it, moving circles across the protruding belly. A couple buttons at the top of her dress were left undone, making her look casual and comfortable as she walked through the grass barefoot. Flowers and thick green trees framed her, as she laughed and grinned happily at the camera, waving every once in awhile. Her cheekbones were high and her lips were a warm pink with lipstick, which only made her lightly tanned skin appear more beautiful as it glowed.

"You have her nose," Harry said, glancing up at Draco.

"I do not," he replied, looking over at him. He walked over slowly, almost reluctantly, his arms still crossed tightly. He looked over Harry's shoulder, down at the picture with a calculating eye, then he glanced at Sirius, as if he were examining his nose. "Maybe," he murmured.

Inhaling deeply, Harry nodded. "All right, so let me see if I got this right," he said, glancing from Draco to Sirius. "Draco, your and Elly's son, is a spy for the Light side," he said, slowly. "Elly was killed by Lucius when Draco was a year old, shortly after you were sent to Azkaban. Draco found out about his real parents when he was eleven, by his mother Narcissa. Wait, why did she tell you?" he asked, looking up him.

Sighing heavily, Draco walked over to the sofa he had been lounging on and sat back in the corner of it. Bending his arm, resting the elbow on the back of the couch, he curled his hand and pressed his knuckles against his forehead. "I found her crying in the drawing room," he said, quietly. "My Hogwarts letter had arrived, but it said Draco _Black _was to be attending, not Malfoy," he told them, sighing. "I guess she couldn't take the lie anymore and finally admitted everything."

His jaw clenched then, though he looked quite calm as he spoke. "She told me... that my real father, he was her cousin. That he had been put in Azkaban for murder, but he hadn't done it. I didn't believe her, so she showed me through her pensieve. I watched as Elly..." Inhaling deeply, he shook his head, his eyes staring at some unknown spot on the floor. "She was trying to save him, but she didn't... She didn't know what she was doing by going to Lucius." He closed his eyes, running his hand over his face to keep his dignity, Harry assumed. "She was begging him, asking him to help Sirius. Saying that if he had done this for their Dark Lord, shouldn't they want him out of Azkaban. But Lucius... he just... he laughed at her, telling her she was nothing more than a silly little girl. She was crying and begging at his feet, but he simply kicked her... like she was this-- this disobedient dog." Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "I was on the floor, I was crawling toward her when Lucius-- When he--"

Breaking off, Draco shook his head before he stood from the couch. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. If you need me, I'll be in my room," he said, quietly, before leaving quickly.

After the door to Draco's bedroom could be heard slamming, Harry turned to his godfather, questioningly.

"He doesn't like to talk about her," Sirius explained, sighing. "He won't tell me why and he refuses to allow me to talk about her for long periods of time. I asked him once if he remembered her... He _stupefied_ me and disappeared for three days," Sirius admitted, chuckling sadly. "He's not very good with emotions and he doesn't like talking about most things." Shaking his head, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "You know, it's taken me years to get him to finally call me dad. He only uses it on occasion, when he's being rude or, in rare moments, sincere. I'm sure you can guess which he uses more often."

"How long have you two been working on being a family?" Harry wondered, squirming slightly in his seat.

"In third year, after you helped me escape the Dementors and we almost had Wormtail, I returned here. The summer after, Dumbledore arranged for him to come visit me. He spoke to Narcissa, who in turn told Lucius she would be picking Draco up alone and then they'd do something, just the two of them. That way Lucius didn't ask questions about his son's sudden disappearance. Narcissa knows this place, after all, she's a Black originally."

"How did it go?" Harry asked, tipping his head in question. "He'd have been fourteen by then and you hadn't seen him in thirteen years, I imagine it must've been-"

"Terribly awkward and weird," Sirius interrupted, nodding. "I-- I wanted desperately to hug him, but he just stood there, staring at me. He didn't speak one word for nearly an hour," he admitted, quietly. "It wasn't until the portrait of mother began screaming that he actually said anything, in fact, his exact words were, 'Does that old bird ever shut up?'" he said, laughing lightly. "After that, he asked a few questions, never anything about Elly, and I had to settle on a handshake before he left. He made another visit later that summer, explained a little of his life with Lucius, but not in great detail. We spoke some of Quidditch and his studies, but he always kept everything at a minimum. Narcissa told me it was because he was afraid he'd get attached and I'd be sent off to Azkaban again. I'm not sure if he told her that or if she simply assumed though." Sighing, he shook his head. "He stopped in for visits a few times the next summer, and he'd send post during the school year on occasion."

Standing up, he brought the picture of Elly back to the fireplace mantel, setting it in its place meticulously. "It wasn't until everything happened with Dumbledore that I began seeing him more regularly. He showed up one night, drenched from the rain, shaking and crying. He kept saying he didn't mean to, that he didn't want to," Sirius confided, his shoulders slumping. "It was-- Sadly, it was the first time he'd ever spoken to me so openly. He told me of Dumbledore and what Voldemort had ordered him to do, along with Snape. He explained that while he was there and holding his wand, he just couldn't do it. He was able to get away from Snape while they were escaping Hogwarts and he found his way here. Since Snape had no idea that Draco knew I was his father, he assumed that he'd be safe here with me."

Swallowing, he walked back to the sofa, looking over at Harry with a rather pleading gaze, as if asking him to understand. "He's-- He's my son, Harry. I don't know how to explain why it is that I trust him. I know you have doubts, and I know how he treated you. I can only tell you that it was all part of his facade, he's been trying to get into Voldemort's army since he was eleven," he told him, shaking his head, his face twisted with remorse. "He thought-- It's like he believes he has to avenge us; Elly and I, for what happened. I've tried telling him that it's not his fight, but he just doesn't listen. And Dumbledore was almost encouraging him; he'd accept information and tell him that he was really helping. It wasn't until it all came to a head and Draco had to kill him that I think Dumbledore realized what he'd done." Shaking his head, he stared down at his hands as they shook. "He'd never kill anyone unless he had to. I know he comes off angry and mean, but he's not. I'm telling you, I know that Draco isn't like this. He's just so... so scared people aren't going to understand or like the real him and he's so used to playing his part as Malfoy that things get away from him, his mouth runs off."

Harry shook his head, feeling his mind cloud with uncertainty. "It's just so hard to accept," he told him, sighing. "I mean, this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. Or Black? I don't' even know what he wants to be called. I mean, I thought-- I thought when I came here it was just going to be you and me. And now it's my enemy from school too; I don't know what to think." Inhaling deeply, he ran his hands through his hair. "I feel both crowded and alone."

Sirius looked at a loss, leaning back into the couch with a heavy sigh. "Things aren't how you thought they would be, I know. I hadn't expected it; I hoped it would happen, but I didn't think he'd ever come around. I hate how it came to be, but I'm glad he's here. I know that you two aren't friends, no where near really, but could you just... Could you try and get along with him? School starts in a month and you'll both be returning, though he keeps telling me it's not happening. You could have Hermione and Ron come over if you like," he suggested, perking slightly. "Have them stay until school starts. I'm sure there's room." He turned, staring at him hopefully. "Just don't-- Don't gang up on him. I know, I know, it's not as if you go around looking to fight with him," he held his hands up, as if holding off any impending argument. "I just want him to feel at home here, I don't want to have to go searching for him if he feels unwelcome."

Nodding, Harry stood up, feeling as if he were being punished rather than rewarded, as his friends were invited over. "You realize that now Hermione and Ron are going to know he's not a Malfoy, right? Is this going to be known all over, or kept a secret?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Lucius is in Azkaban and Snape is currently hiding out, so I don't really have to worry about them. I don't want anyone to know where he is though, so please don't tell anyone. The Order is coming over tonight, and I'll be explaining Draco to them in full. Remus already knows, he was there for my wedding to Elly and he proudly calls Draco is nephew," he told him, smiling for a moment. "Draco doesn't want the Wizarding world knowing he's a Black just yet though. It could put him in a lot of danger, especially when he returns to school. I don't know how many people know that Draco had anything to do with what happened with Dumbledore, but if it becomes a problem McGonagall has assured me that Draco will be well taken care of."

Nodding, Harry stayed silent, still trying to absorb everything. "When can Hermione and Ron come over?" he asked, looking over at him.

"As soon as they can," Sirius told him, nodding. "The Order won't be here until after dinner. As long as they understand they're not to bother Draco, and I can assure you I will make sure he doesn't bother them either, then they can stay as long as they want." Standing from his seat, he walked over to him, putting a hand down on his shoulder. "I'm glad you understand everything Harry, I was rather worried that you wouldn't... That you might leave or something, but I'm very glad you're staying," he said, sincerely.

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling the ball in his throat again. "I'm glad too."

"I'm going to go see how he's doing," Sirius told him, walking out of the living room and going upstairs.

Harry sighed, frowning at the empty room around him. What was he supposed to do now? Make the best of a bad situation? He had big plans for living with Sirius; he had hoped they were going to spend the summer doing something fun. Playing Quidditch, or Wizards chess; anything but mend the relationship between him and the son Harry didn't know he had. He knew he was acting selfish and perhaps he was even feeling jealous, but he really didn't know what he was supposed to do or say. Upstairs, next to his room, was the boy who had lived to make his life a living hell. With the taunting and the smart aleck remarks at every turn; how was he supposed to just let that go and say everything was fine? Just because he had felt the need to keep up an image while he secretly spied for the Light side, that makes it okay? Sighing with frustration, Harry felt like kicking something. Instead, he decided to write his friends, to ask if they'd like to come stay with him at his new _home_.

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**A/N** _Hey guys! Hope you're enjoying this story. I think this chapter explains a lot, hopefully. The next chapter will be in Draco's POV:D Please leave a review, I'd like to know what you all think. Thanks a million!_

_Much Love,_  
-**Amanda**


	3. 3

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_At this point in time, I am feeling a little more empathy towards Draco. He has a father who wasn't around very often, and now this father is forcing him to be in a familial relationship with the boy he hates ("hates" ?). It's all quite sudden, and I just feel like, Poor Draco... I mean, Harry has just escaped the Dursley's, ready to begin a happy family with his much-loved God-Father, when this shocking news is sprung upon him out of the blue, and he's just supposed to accept it. That's totally not fair! ... I've decided I really like Harry in this story, and I really like that it's in his point of view (so far...), and I've also decided that I don't really like Draco all that much in this story. I don't hate him, but I don't really like him either. Of course, he's kind of pivitol to the story, so he has to be there, and I'm sure he'll grow on me, like white on rice, and I know why he's acting like this, and it makes perfect sense, but for now, I'll just stick to not really caring for him. I'd also definitely like to read what Sirius' thoughts on his son and Godson, and maybe even Elly, are. ... It's weird to read Draco's feelings and emotions being related through somebody else, but I like it._" - **_galloping-goose_** of FanFiction net.

**Thanks to the following reviewers of chapter two**: _Lily Hermione Potter, cle be, Kaye Chan, ), Rhianna, Dizi 85, Sam's Firefly, BlackScream16, **Slythrin Corps. (Khenny), Maybaby525, Shaggy37, Abraxnia**_ and _especially **inge-loves-lost**, **Princess de la Plume**, **Hyuga Kyuuketsuki**, _and_ **galloping-goose**._

_**A Family Affair**_

-**3**-

Draco found himself pacing his bedroom, his hands clenching and releasing out of frustration. Everything had all gone so wrong; he had it planned, every detail he would need to execute everything. Since the time he was eleven, he had vowed vengeance; for Elly, for Sirius, for himself. He had hated growing up as a Malfoy, there were so many restrictions, so many rules on what he could say or do or think. He was never allowed to be a kid or enjoy anything; he was absorbed in all of the darkest teachings. He had to take etiquette classes since the age of four, he had to learn five languages by six, and by the time he was getting ready to attend Hogwarts, he knew the full meaning of the word punishment.

Were he to talk out of turn, Lucius' cane swiftly met his back, were he to speak ill of the ways of purebloods, Lucius' fist would kindly meet his face, and were he to ever utter a single word concerning Voldemort, he wasn't able to move from his bed for days from the beating he would receive. There was always a lesson, be it something he should know concerning his studies, or just because Lucius felt it was something a Malfoy should be knowledgeable about. There was nothing to be proud of as a Malfoy, but he had to pretend at every moment that he was in every way better than all others.

When he had learned from Narcissa that he had an entirely different set of parents, he had been overcome with joy for a moment, until the full weight of her words set in. That meant he had spent eleven years putting up with Lucius for nothing; he had a real father, who might've even cared about him at some point. It meant that everything he had learned had all been wasted and the information that was all pent up in his mind was for nothing. But then he realized something incredible; after seeing his mother be killed and knowing that his real father was in Azkaban, he had made a huge decision. Instead of letting all that had happened to him seem like some horrid nightmare, he would use it all against Lucius and Voldemort. He would gather the knowledge he could from being a Malfoy and use it against the Dark side by giving it all away to Dumbledore, his soon to be Headmaster.

Over six years, he had done just that; worked the Dark side for the Light. His upbringing had equipped him with a sharp tongue, which came in handy when he appeared to be going against all that stood for good. He knew of Harry Potter and which side he would most likely be on, but he couldn't help but tempt him that first day. He threw in a few insults toward his friends, driving it in deep what kind of people were on the Dark side of things. He was happily rewarded with Potter picking Weasley over him, and though he looked a fool for it, he had caused Harry to pick the right side. From then on a feud ran between them, and Draco had made sure it was kept very much alive. This furthered his place with both his father and Voldemort and at the same time gave a warning to Potter to keep on his toes.

By his third year, he remembered reading that Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, which both scared and thrilled him. He had learned from Narcissa that his father hadn't really sold out Lily and James Potter, nor did he kill the thirteen people that the Ministry had charged him with. He knew that Sirius had been sent a letter regarding his whereabouts, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about it. So, he left it up to his father to decide what was best. When he didn't show any interest in Draco until that summer, he wasn't sure how to take it. When he finally had the chance to meet him, he became tongue-tied (a first in his life). Oddly enough it was Walburga Black and her incessant screaming who managed to make him speak.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep Sirius from getting close to him, he had just been so used to playing the aloof and often mean Draco Malfoy, that he didn't know how to let his guard down. He didn't know how to tell his dad about his life in full detail, or to express how nice it was to know that he was part of his life now. When everything happened with Dumbledore, the first person who came to mind to run to was Sirius, so he did. He had poured everything out, explaining what had happened with Dumbledore and how he had been sent to kill him to make up for Lucius' mistakes. He was going only to put himself higher, as he really didn't care about Lucius, though he didn't want Narcissa to die either. But while standing there, knowing that he was supposed to cause the end of a man who had played a large part in his life, he just couldn't do it.

His history with Sirius was rocky; they had never spent more than a few hours together since he was a year old. He had come to visit, but they hardly spoke and Draco always left feeling like he put a rift between them. He cared about Sirius, as a son should for his father, but he had trouble saying he did. During his fourth year, when he had learned of Potter's luring to the Department of Mysteries, he had originally gone to see if he could stop the boy-who-lived from walking into a trap. He showed up far too late though, only managing to see his aunt try and kill his father. He was able to throw a shield up just in time, but had to disappear before anybody saw him. He never told Sirius he was there, as both he and Lucius had warned him not to go anywhere near it. He wasn't about to tell him that he had gone against orders and shown up, where he could've been killed, or worse blown his cover. He didn't know how Potter knew about that, he was absolutely sure that nobody had seen him, but he was grateful that he hadn't said anything after he realized Draco didn't want him to.

Everything had been turned over since he had moved in with Sirius though; he wanted to know more about him, to understand him better. It wasn't that he didn't want to share, he just didn't know how. He felt foolish speaking of feelings and he couldn't really express anything but anger and annoyance. They had enjoyed themselves for awhile, rebuilding and cleaning up the house to make it more suitable. But things went completely downhill after Sirius informed him that Harry would be moving in after his birthday. Voldemort was the one wizard, besides maybe Snape, that Draco was trying to avoid at the moment, and now he had the boy that the Dark Lord wanted dead most, sleeping in the room next to his. It was a matter of safety; after his whole plan was shot to hell, he had come to Sirius for a safe place to hide until things smoothed out. Instead, he winds up living with his 'enemy'.

There was also a small part of him that was jealous; not just because Harry was known for being kind, brave, and an all around hero, but because Sirius thought so highly of him. He doubted that his father was running around telling anyone that he was deeply proud of Draco, and he certainly wouldn't be praising him on anything anytime soon. So there was a small bit of animosity between him and Harry over it; he was rather tired of hearing how great Harry was. All right, so he could admit he hadn't given his dad much to brag about, especially given he never spoke of his life, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

Certainly Potter wouldn't be happy about living with him either, in fact, he was sure that downstairs, Harry was telling Sirius to get rid of him. For a brief moment, Draco was actually scared his dad might listen to him. His mind told him to beat them all to the punch, he had revealed too much already. Perhaps he had stayed with Sirius too long anyway, maybe it was best for him to keep moving. That way, Voldemort and Snape couldn't track him down. He'd be long gone before they figured out where he was. What was he doing? He didn't know how to be on the run. He had run off and found himself on his dad's doorstep, what kind of escape plan was that?'

Just as he had made his mind up to leave, there was a knock at the door. Draco simply stared at it, standing still in the center of the floor and crossing his arms. It was as if his mouth wasn't working so he couldn't call out for them to come in; instead, he just stared at the door handle. He hoped it wasn't Potter, if Sirius sent him up to talk to him, he was definitely leaving. He had accidentally said too much about Elly, and he really didn't want anyone to know about anything concerning her. He wanted to wipe her from his mind and Sirius certainly wasn't helping with that. Finally, the door opened, revealing a rather nervous Sirius.

"I've spoken with Harry," he said, stepping the rest of the way into the room and closing the door behind him. "He's confused, a little unsure, but I think it's all going to work out fine."

"Fantastic, let's have a party, why don't we?" he replied, feeling on edge.

Sighing, Sirius shook his head. "Please, Draco, can you at least pretend to be happy?"

"I can _pretend_ to be a lot of things," he responded, turning around to look out the window moodily.

"What do you want from me?" Sirius asked, after a moment of silence. "I just-- I've tried talking to you. I've tried to understand why you won't open up. I've told you about myself and about your moth-" He cut himself off when Draco sent him a dark look. "I don't know what you want. I'm trying to be here for you. I'm trying to make this transition as easy as possible, Draco, but you just seem to be backing off even more," he told him, sounding defeated.

Draco rolled his shoulders, trying to make himself appear less stiff. "I-- I don't know how to be a son," he admitted, closing his eyes. "I know how to be a student, and I know how to listen to direct orders. But actually being a son, it just sounds foreign," he told him, shaking his head. "Potter, he knows how. He looks at you and he talks to you as if you were really-- As if you were always there for him. I grew up with Lucius; I grew up knowing rules and restrictions. It was never about feelings or memories or understanding each other." Turning around, he looked at Sirius for a moment before averting his gaze. "All of this, it all feels so... out of place for me. Whenever you speak, I think I'm supposed to reply with some kind of comeback. Whenever you ask a question, I feel the need to avoid it. It's like this never ending circle of trying to get away from you and I don't know how to stop it," he said, feeling his mouth snap shut when he realized just how honest he was being.

"Don't do that," Sirius said, stepping forward, a smile pulling at his mouth. "You were so close. You were almost there. I could feel it. You were really starting to open up, to speak to me. Please, don't stop. Just-- Just tell me what you're thinking... What you're feeling. Anything," he asked, shaking his head, his eyes hopefully. "Yell, cry, anything. Just don't close up again, please." He held his arms out, as if to draw the emotions from Draco, to pull them from him and make them seen and known.

There was this part of him that really wanted to share it all, to just let it all out. But he had been taught not to do that, it had been a lifelong lesson that he was never to forget. Feelings are weak, you must always have a plan for anything. There were rules that a Malfoy had to follow, and even though he was a Black, he had made sure to follow them as best he could. Never express emotions, never say anything you don't want known, never fall in love, and never, ever care. Money is important, it is the bridge to everything. Cheating, lying, bribery, they all go hand in hand, but they'll most likely keep you alive during the worst of times. Family is no more than a band of people who will back up your lies and lie for you; they are not to be trusted, but at the most, called upon when times are dire. A Malfoy does not cry, nor does he feel, but he will always come out on top.

Now Draco had never shown his emotions and he had certainly done his best to hide all weakness. Any information he had given Potter, though it may have sounded inadvertent, was really his way of warning the boy of what was to come. The only person he didn't seem able to hide things from was Sirius, as he became flustered and defensive in his presence.

He had surely never fallen in love, though many thought he was with the dim witted Parkinson girl. Now caring was a difficult part; he had to care about Sirius and Elly, as he had spent six long years planning to avenge them. Over time he had grown to care about his dad, though he kept it tightly under wraps. Elly was another story; he didn't even want to think about that, it was far too painful to go into.

While he hadn't valued money like Lucius had, he knew how to use it to his advantage, even as young as he was, he knew it was a great bargaining chip. Growing up, he had been taught that anyone who did not have money was not worth his time; he had never seen the point in that, especially since apparently bribery was important, but he had accepted the lesson as is. When he grew up and learned about families like the Weasley's, he began to understand what Lucius meant by it. And while he didn't agree with the statement, he did get the meaning behind it. Money was a source of power, and power is what runs everything in his direction.

Family, the Malfoy's anyway, were just his background to keep his plan in movement. Sirius however, he was something else completely. Draco called him dad on rare occasions, for his own sanity, he knew. If he got too close, he couldn't be sure if he'd be able to accept what might happen in the long run. Death and Voldemort run hand in hand, and his sights were certainly on both Draco and Sirius.

Crying, though Draco did it almost never, was a very sore spot for him. He hated crying, often dubbing it the most ridiculous act known. However, he had done so right in front of Sirius, much to his own embarrassment later. What shocked him though was that Sirius hadn't lashed out like Lucius would have, but instead tried to comfort him. Comfort was completely foreign to him, so he hadn't accepted what his dad was offering in the form of a hug, but the gesture had made an impact all its own.

"You know," Sirius said, walking across the room to sit in a chair by the bookshelf. "When I first met your mother, she was incredibly evasive too. She hated talking about anything that didn't have to do with her studies, saying it was a waste of time. But I slowly -incredibly slowly actually- managed to get her to open up. Now, I know you hate talking about her and I don't want to make you push me away, so I'll try not to bring her up anymore." Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his chin. "I also know you're not happy that Harry lives here, but that I will not change. His friends are coming to stay here until the end of the month, so maybe you won't even see him very often," Sirius told him, nodding.

"Weasley and Granger too?" he asked, frowning. "Are you trying to kick me out without actually saying it?"

Chuckling, Sirius shook his head. "You know, if you just spend some time with them, you might grow to like them."

"I highly doubt that," he replied, cocking his brow.

"Well who else are you going to spend the next month with?" he asked, smirking. "Certainly not your old man, he's too inquisitive for his age," he quipped.

Shrugging, Draco looked away, rather uncomfortable. "Couldn't I spend some time with Remus instead?" he wondered. "The house will be quite full with four teenagers and you, maybe I should--"

"No," Sirius cut him off, shaking his head vehemently. "Look Draco, I know this can't be the most enjoyable situation for you. But this is the first time I've had to spend any time with you since I escaped from Azkaban, and I don't plan on going over to Remus' just to see you." Exhaling heavily, he leaned forward in his chair. "I realize you don't like Harry or his friends much, but could you just ignore them for the month. For my sake, please?" he asked, staring up at him and clasping his hands together. "Harry has agreed to leave you alone and to keep Hermione and Ron off your back. We can spend the month together... if you want to," he said, nodding. "I've-- I've always wanted to take you fishing and there's a lake I know of that's great this time of season." Sitting up, he sighed. "If you don't like it after awhile, if you feel like things are uncomfortable then we'll talk about it, all right?"

Draco thought it over, he really wasn't liking the idea of spending an entire month in the presence of the Gryffindor Golden Trio, but he really didn't have choice. He wanted to get closer to his dad and now he had the chance, so who was he to say no? Relenting, he nodded. "All right."

Clapping his hands together, Sirius grinned up at him. "Wonderful," he said, nodding. "How about a little lunch then? Which reminds me, what are you making for dinner?" he asked, smirking.

Snorting, Draco shook his head. "Not bloody likely, old man," he muttered, walking to the door. "I hope you're not wearing _that_ to the Order meeting," he commented, looking back at him with a cocked brow.

"What's wrong with it? I think I look quite stylish," Sirius replied, looking down at his clothes.

"You know you're wearing your shirt inside out, right?" Draco asked, half-smiling. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't you been wearing those pants for nearly three days now?"

Sighing, Sirius rolled his eyes. "Clothes are in low demand lately. I've found most of my old wardrobe no longer fits."

"Neither does Potter's," he responded, shrugging. "Maybe you two need to take a trip out shopping," he said, smirking. "Oh what fun," he drawled, snorting.

"Well what about you?" Sirius asked, waving his hand around the room. "I've only seen you wear a total of three outfits, that doesn't sound like a full wardrobe."

"While fleeing for my life, I didn't have time to grab many clothes," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "But I can't really be seen in public, can I?"

"We'll see about that," Sirius told him, smirking. "There are such things as appearance charms, remember? You were under one for sixteen years."

Walking through the door, he glanced back at Sirius who was following him out. "As long as you don't charm me to have red hair, glasses and a beer belly, I'm fine," he told him, walking down the stairs.

"But I thought a beer belly would look quite becoming on you," Sirius quipped, grinning.

Making their way into the kitchen, Draco and Sirius were startled to see a house elf running around frantically. Glancing at each other and then back at the small being that was moving a little to fast for them to see the face of, they shrugged their shoulders. "I got rid of Kreacher a long time ago," Sirius said,

"Yes, I remember," Draco said, smirking. "Right then, who's that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," his father said, shaking his head.

"Well... call it," he suggested, motioning to the house elf running around.

"Call it what?" Sirius asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

Sighing, Draco rolled his eyes. "Hey," he shouted. "House elf," he yelled, feeling incredibly foolish. He heard Sirius laugh in the background and resisted the urge to glare at him.

Suddenly, the little house elf stopped what it was doing and slowly slunk over to stand in front of Draco, its head bowed and its ears turned down in shame. "Dizzy is sorry, Master Draco sir," came a soft, quiet voice. "Dizzy is just trying to help clean Master Draco's house, since Dizzy was left all alone at Malfoy Manor," she told him, scuffing her foot over the floor.

Draco's brows rose in recognition. "I know you," he said, nodding. "You were who Narcissa assigned to me two months ago. How'd you know where to find me?" he wondered, crossing his arms.

"Dizzy always know where Master Draco is, Dizzy was just waiting for yous to call her," she said, glancing up at him for a split second before averting her giant purple eyes. "Yous never called and Dizzy was bored at the Manor, so she came to see yous and your father, Master Sirius," she said, turning to bow at his dad. "Yous is not mad at Dizzy, is yous?" she asked, becoming upset. "Dizzy did not mean to upset Master Draco! Dizzy just--"

"It's okay," he interrupted. "I don't mind. I actually forgot about you, which is why I never called," he admitted, shrugging. "If it's alright with Sirius, you can stay if you want," he told her, glancing back at his dad to get a nod.

Dizzy's ears began flapping excitedly as she grinned up at him, standing on her tip toes. "Thank yous Master Draco, a thousand thank yous!"

"Yeah sure," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you done with the kitchen, Sirius and I were going to have some lunch--"

"Dizzy will make it for yous both," she interrupted, nodding excitedly.

Shaking his head, he frowned. "Really, it's fine, we'll just--"

Sirius tugged on his arm, cutting him off. "Believe me, it's probably better if we let her do it. You don't want to upset her, remember. She looks rather sensitive."

Nodding, Draco walked into the dining room. "She is. When Narcissa first gave her to me, she kept trying to make my bed while I was still in it. I kept telling her to wait and finally she started crying and banging her head on the bedpost, saying she was stupid," he said, shaking his head. He fell silent for a moment, looking around the room. "Where's Potter?" he asked.

"Probably sending word to Hermione and Ron," Sirius told him, pouring a cup of tea from the pot Dizzy set in front of them.

Shrugging, Draco nodded. "Are we going shopping today?" he wondered. "Because I'll have to stop at Gringotts first, take some money out of the Malfoy account."

"You realize you have money with me, right?" Sirius asked, glancing up at him. "We're not poor Draco. The Black's were very wealthy, so you have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, but why spend our money when I can spend his," he replied, smirking.

Chuckling, Sirius shook his head. "I'll go see if Harry wants to join us for lunch and then shopping," he said, after taking a long sip of his tea. "You don't... mind if he comes, do you?" he wondered, looking uncomfortable.

"I have to get used to him sometime," he responded, shrugging.

"All right," Sirius said, looking at him uncertainly before leaving the room.

Sighing, Draco leaned forward on the table, running his hands over his face. He was about to spend an entire month with the father he hardly knew, a boy who hated him, and his two friends who, if possible, disliked him even more. On top of that, he had an overly eager house elf jumping to do anything he wanted, or even things he didn't want her doing. Plus, he had to go shopping with his dad and the boy he'd called enemy for six years. He may not hate Potter, or even be against him, but he wasn't exactly jumping for joy or hoping to be his friend. It was really more of trying to pretend he wasn't alive, which was going to be hard to do with the living together. He couldn't wait to see the expressions on Granger and Weasley's faces, they'd likely pass out from the confusion of it all. Then there was The Order; he was actually a bit scared at how they might react. After all, they were Dumbledore's Order, and Draco was known as being the person who somewhat caused his death.

Things were not turning out as planned. All the same though, he was going to have to get through it. If he ever wanted to survive and get to know his real father, he would have to put up with the uncertain and likely unpleasant events to come. Where was a glass of Firewhiskey when he needed it? Well, he could solve that problem... "Dizzy?" he called, smirking.

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**A/N** _Thank you all for reading, I hope you're enjoying it so far. I appreciate all feedback, so please leave a review:D Next chapter brings in Hermione, Ron, and The Order!_** :D**

_Much Love,  
-_**Amanda**


	4. 4

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_You portray Draco's former family so well. I can only imagine the horrors Lucius has made him go through, the torture and all of the pain he had to face all this time. It makes me glad that Lucius isn't his real father, at least not in this world. But I can also understand that this makes Draco feel that all of his 'training' has been useless, that he didn't have to endure it all. It seems so unfair, but that's life sometimes. I can't believe that he would make Harry make the right choice, but then again, he has always been a master manipulator. I can only imagine what it must feel like to all of a sudden meet your real father. He cares for his father, even though he was probably taught that Malfoy's don't love and don't care. Of course he would have trouble saying and admitting it. I love how you used the obvious jealousy between Draco and Harry and twisted it to fit your reality. It makes a perfect fit. Draco's reasons for jealousy make perfect sense. He's so afraid his father loves Harry more then him, considering his childhood, his fears make sense. He's not used to feelings, and not used to being a son to someone. Here my suspicions are confirmed. He was taught not to care, and I really feel for Draco having to live this way. Sirius is right in trying to break him away from this. I was thinking about why he would want to stay with Remus, but it makes sense. Not many people know which side Draco is on. The conversation between Sirius and Draco makes even more clear that they're so incredibly alike in some aspects. I like Dizzy, she seems like a nice house elf. A female touch in the house perhaps. Draco doesn't really know what to do with her, but I still think it's going to be good. Draco should spend the Malfoy money in my opinion. A guy like Lucius doesn't deserve it. But hey, that's just me. I think they are going to be in for a hell of a summer. I'm definitely curious about what will happen next with Ron, Hermione (YEAH!) and the Order._" - **_inge-loves-lost_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you very much to the following reviewers of chapter three**: _cle be, BlackScream16, Sam's Firefly, Kandygurl4, princess kyra, Shaggy37, Lily Hermione Potter, ANDie, RB140990,_ **_Laendra, devotedhpfan, Hyuga Kyuuketsuki, DragonSlayer18_** and _especially** niic smiles, anie smiles, Princess de la Plume, inge-loves-lost **_and**_ galloping-goose._**

_**A Family Affair**_

-**4**-

Harry walked down the cobble stone streets of Diagon Alley, glancing over at the disguised duo that had asked him along for their shopping trip. It had become apparent that the three men were in ownership of little clothing, or a wardrobe that had been at one time owned by the decedent of Dumbo himself, in Harry's case. He wasn't surprised to see that even with his transfigured brown hair, blue eyes, and a rounder face, Draco was scowling as his usual personality permitted. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his expensive looking pants, and Harry assumed the reason he wasn't biting his head off at the moment was because he took the edge of with a couple shots of Firewhiskey before they left, much to Sirius' chagrin. Harry could still see him pinching the bridge of his nose, cocking his brow at his son, and sighing with frustration, while the house elf that Harry hadn't caught the name of was hopping back and forth on her feet, wringing her hands and apologizing like crazy. On the bright side, Draco could hold his liquor, and was only buzzed enough not to lash out at Harry just for the peculiar fun of it.

"Bank first," Sirius told them, frowning and glancing at his son then Harry. "And we aren't coming back here often, so make sure you get all you need for a whole wardrobe." He was in a rather foul mood, which Harry attributed to that fact that he probably hoped he and Draco would be getting along to some point, rather than getting drunk to avoid each other.

Given that his godfather was still on the run, Sirius had also changed his appearance, though it was fairly obvious he had made himself appear much like that of Draco, apparently unwilling to let their physical similarities sway even when pretending not to be themselves. It would've been heartening, had Harry not found himself jealous. He wasn't letting that show though, fully shutting himself up and simply brooding in quiet to himself. He couldn't wait for Ron and Hermione to arrive at Grimmauld Place, so he would have someone to discuss it all with. He had a feeling Hermione might be more understanding than Ron, simply because his male best friend really did have the emotion range of a teaspoon.

He had tried starting a few conversations with them, but found they hit dead ends quickly. Sirius' bad mood didn't appear to be lessening, and when was Draco ever really in a good disposition? So his random small talk starters fell on deaf ears, either receiving no response at all, or a deep scowl from Draco, and lastly the ever so eloquent, "Huh?" from Sirius. In the end, he decided conversation was best left for a time when they weren't ready to tear each other apart, or when he had his friends around at least. He hoped the entire summer wouldn't be so stiff and edged, or else he wondered if his situation at Grimmauld Place was all that much better than the Dursley's? He shuddered at the thought.

After going through an interesting process at Gringotts, where Draco had caused quite the ruckus, things only went down hill. While they had waited in line, Sirius wondered aloud if the goblins would give him access to his vault, considering he was a so-called murderer on the run. Deciding he couldn't take the risk of outing himself, he sourly accepted help from Harry to pay for his and Draco's wardrobe. Harry had been briefly annoyed that he would be spending money on his enemy, but then thought it would likely make Draco upset that he had to accept charity. Upon turning around to gloat silently, he found the Slytherin boy had disappeared from sight. Sirius had come to the same conclusion simultaneously and Harry had put his selfish annoyance at Draco aside, knowing his godfather was looking destroyed at what might've happened. His face had paled considerably, the blood draining from his complexion as his now blue eyes darted around the area ferociously, completely distraught.

After searching all over Gringotts, at least in places they were allowed, the two of them exited the bank, intending on searching the whole of Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Just as Sirius was about to go running off, his disguised son appeared next to him, with a simple question. "Who died?" which in turn mocked Sirius for his worry for his son.

Sirius whipped around, his eyes going from sad and desperate to a molten lava of anger. "Where were you?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Collecting money for our shopping trip," he drawled, shrugging. "It occurred to me that you can't get into your vault and they might question my appearance as Draco Black; I don't know if they know the truth," he told him, sighing. "So I turned back into Malfoy, strolled up to the counter, told them I wanted into my vault and managed to get money out before they asked questions. Then I turned back to this," he said, scowling, "and now I'm talking to you about my very small indiscretion."

"Very... small... indisc--" His mouth twitched in anger and Harry automatically backed off, knowing Sirius was about to be very angry. "Do you have any idea what you just did to me?" he asked, his voice thick with strained rage.

Harry was almost surprised to see that neither did Draco shrink away from his father's anger or show any emotion at all; he didn't appear affected by it in any way. Then again, it was a good cover to never allow emotion to come out when in the company of certain guests; he had grown up around people who would always question his actions. Draco had been quite good at hiding his traitorous acts against the Dark side and spying ways for the Light side all these years. Sirius himself had admitted that Draco had troubles expressing emotion, so it was only right that he hide any fear or remorse at the moment.

"I likely scared you, it would explain why you're near tears," Draco replied, his face impassive. "If I had told you what I was going to do, you would've tried to talk me out of it," he said, as if it explained his actions away.

"Of course I would have, most people believe you helped murder Dumbledore," he whisper-shouted, waving his arms for emphasis. "You've been completely hidden, never spotted once, for months now, and you blow it all for a bloody new wardrobe," Sirius raged.

"And what did you expect me to do?" he asked, his eyes darting up to stare at Sirius with what had to be a tinge of anger, letting his feelings through just a bit. "Accept charity from Potter over there. Don't bet your life on it, there's no bloody way. I said I would accept his existence and keep myself from insulting him on impulse, I never said I'd buddy up with the boy and let him buy me things," he told him, his voice equally shaky with a dark anger that Harry realized the two of them had in common, which really wasn't reassuring.

Harry felt mildly insulted as Draco spoke about him; feeling like Sirius had to push Draco into being nice to him simply because he was the outsider. He wasn't real family, he was just the godson, which came into more clarity in that moment. Draco would forever be seen as Sirius' real son, while Harry was simply the adopted boy because his parents had been murdered when he was young. Would Sirius show this much emotion if he had left a bank without telling him? Would he be nearly in tears, scared for his life just because he had been missing for five or ten minutes? Or was that only reserved for a real son? A biological child?

"Harry was doing us a favor," Sirius told him, taking a warning step forward. "You would do well to remember that he is your godbrother. You two are going to be around each a whole lot in the near future and for years to come. You're both my family, and it's time you started acting like it," he reminded, his voice still thick. "You may have grown up a Malfoy, but you yourself said you were a Black by heart. I don't want to have to worry every time we step out of the house that you are going to run off behind my back, without using common sense." There was a moment where his anger melted, replaced but the utter worry had been showing, which he tried to convey to Draco, only to have it thrown back in his face.

"Family is not something I take lightly," Draco told him, stepping forward, his teeth clenched. "Father or not, god_brother_ or not, I will act how I see fit for the situation. I'm not about to plead for your forgiveness upon taking the necessary steps to insure that I'm not relying on someone else. Malfoy or Black, I don't lean on anyone to make it through. Certainly not the boy who still doesn't see me as anything but the kid standing in his way at having the perfect little family unit," he spat. Taking a step back, he regarded them both for a moment, before letting out a sigh that sounded like boredom, but Harry was sure he had heard it quaver. "I'll meet you back at the house," he said, rather quietly.

Sirius reached out, his hands colliding with nothing as Draco apparated away. Harry watched as the man who he had come to see as a stand-in father stiffened with what had happened, his head shaking while his body strained against the emotional turn of events. He wondered how often Draco and Sirius fought, or if this was a rare moment he had witnessed. It certainly looked as if the duo had their complications but never voiced them, giving Harry reason to believe he had stepped in on something that was exclusively theirs. Which ended up making him feel low, given that he really never had moments with a father figure that was just his, unless they were discussing the war ahead of them or the parents he'd lost. Would he ever experience a moment where Sirius was angry with him for acting rude, or worrying him over nonsense? Why did this bother him so much?

"Sirius?" he asked, reaching out to place a hand on his godfather's shoulder. He was surprised to feel the arm beneath his palm stiffen and pull back for a moment.

Clearing his throat, the older man turned around. "Sorry Harry," he said, though it lacked any energy as he was looking quite beaten. "How 'bout we go shopping then?" he suggested with false enthusiasm. "Then a hearty lunch. It's his own fault that he'll be missing out on today, right? We can have a little fun on our own." With those words, he turned to walk into the main area, busy with witches and wizards.

Throughout their shopping experience, picking up robes, pants, shirts, underthings, ties, shoes, and coats, Harry couldn't help but sigh whenever he heard Sirius mention just how much Draco was missing out on. It was as if he were trying to rub it in his face, even though he wasn't there. When they stopped at a nice restaurant, Harry had to hear about how Draco would likely whine about the menu anyway, so they didn't need to worry about having him around for a good time. It was probably better he wasn't there, Sirius would say, because it gave them time to catch up. Of course, Harry hardly had the chance to tell him anything about what school or time spent at the Dursley's was like because his godfather would simply interrupt, making remarks about Draco per usual. It was quite obvious that it was bothering Sirius to no end that not only had his son disappeared on him without the faintest thought about his feelings, but that he had simply left him standing in the middle of the street, to go off wherever it was he had left to, deciding not to join in on their set shopping day.

When they finally arrived home, Harry was exhausted and his ears were heavy from hearing his godfather go on and on for hours. They had spent an extra couple of hours walking around shops, buying odds and ends that Harry was sure he'd likely hear Sirius rub in Draco's face later for not coming along. It was childish, but then Sirius could be rather selfish and immature at times; likely a side effect of spending the majority of his adult life in prison, unable to really grow up in some ways. These moments really only happened when people wouldn't listen to him or ignored him for any reason. Lately, Harry had noticed that he had matured some, at least in the area of parenting Draco. He wasn't as Marauderish in the way that he'd avoid emotions to play pranks, but faced it head on and tried to make the best of a bad situation.

However, when they arrived home, numerous bags in hand, Harry was surprised to see that Draco was nowhere in sight. He waited as Sirius went upstairs to check his son's room, apparently coming up empty handed. Once again, his serious side came out as he hurried down the stairs, now looking like himself and entered the kitchen. "Dizzy," he shouted, which Harry assumed to be the house elf's name. "Dizzy, have you seen Draco?" he wondered, his voice rather frantic.

"No Master Sirius sirs," she replied, her voice slightly wobbly, making Harry feel as if she were lying. "Master Draco did not come home. Hes did not put his bags in his room and leave again. And hes did not ask Dizzy not to tell Master Sirius where he's gone," she told him, sounding as if she really believed she wasn't ratting Draco out.

Harry couldn't help but chortle slightly at how odd the little house elf was, with her commitment to Draco accidentally spilling out of her in an amusing manner. However, her slips of tongue could become a liability if they weren't careful, which they'd have to discuss with the little thing. It occurred to him then that Hermione was going to have a fit when she found out they had an unpaid house elf there, running around and willing to serve them hand and foot. Then again, he himself had never tried asking Dizzy for anything, so she may exclusively work for Draco and Sirius.

"Where did he go?" Sirius thundered, his voice shaking.

"Dizzy no knows," she told him, hiccuping in fear. "Master Draco no tells Dizzy where he went and even if hes did, Dizzy couldn't tell yous."

Sighing, Sirius stomped out of the kitchen, his hand over his mouth in frustration. He paced the main area, his eyes darting around and his back stiff. "We have to find him," he said aloud, causing Harry to wonder if he were speaking to him or not. "He's not safe, he could run into danger. Merlin," he shouted, stomping his food madly. "He can be so bloody hot headed, never thinking before he goes off and does something ridiculous." Shaking his head, he ran a shaky hand through his hair. "He doesn't understand how much danger he's in."

"Master Sirius, sirs," Dizzy's small voice came from the kitchen door. She was clasping her hands, staring at the floor as her ears flapped around with discomfort. "Dizzy wonders if she should start dinner, as Order should be here in an hour," she told him, digging her foot into the floor.

Sighing, Sirius turned to her, nodding. Rubbing his furrowed brow, he stuck a hand on his side, staring down at the floor in concentration. "Where would he go?" he asked, though Harry was sure his question was directed at himself. "Do you think he'll be come back for the meeting? He knows how important it is, but..."

Harry shook his head, shrugging slightly. "I'm not sure. I mean, he probably just needed to clear his head," he replied, fidgeting as he felt his words weren't reassuring in the least. "Do you... That is, do you fight often?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"No, well, not really," Sirius told him, sighing. "Certain subjects get him riled up, but he doesn't let me talk to him enough for us to fight often. It takes awhile to get him to open up to you, and even when you do, he's as tight as a jar when it comes to most things. You practically have to pry the smallest of things out of him. Sometimes, I can't help but think that it's not... That no matter how hard I try, it will never be enough," he admitted, quietly. Before Harry could say anything, Sirius had turned away, walking up the steps with sagging shoulders and a hung head.

Sighing, Harry ventured into the den area, falling back onto the couch and frowning at the area around him. Just that afternoon, everything had changed. His dreams had been not only thrown out the window, but doused with gas and set on fire. Then, they had been stomped on, kicked around a little, and handed back to him in a little baggy that said, "Nice try Harry, maybe in your next lifetime chap." Just one small break, that was all he had asked for. He had lost his headmaster, a man who had believed in him above so many others, and when he finally thought he had something good going in his life, the boy who had caused the demise of the man he admired had taken it all from him again. Draco always seemed to be in the background of things, screwing them up for him at every angle.

Okay, perhaps he was placing a lot of blame on a boy who had a little too much revenge on his brain, but he needed to blame someone. He couldn't place all of his problems on Voldemort, it was rather unfair, as Voldemort hadn't _made_ Draco come running to his biological father. Though, he was the sole reason Draco had been taken from his father and mother in the first place. So, really, the Dark Lord had a hand in everything; even Harry's enemies existence and actions. But since Harry obviously couldn't' take it out on Harry at that moment, he decided to direct his pissy mood at the boy who lived in the house along with him; who had been the bane of his existence for six long years, and who had caused what could have been a delightful afternoon to morph into a dragging, annoying day, with the only reward being clothes and a headache.

As he sat pondering the way of things, he hadn't noticed the fireplace light up, until Ron came barreling through, a suitcase in one hand and a broom in the other. He landed on the floor with a loud thud and a pained, 'oof'. He managed to get up rather quickly and Harry gathered his things from the floor, feeling a little less angry at having his best mate there. Ron for the most part looked eager, shouting a loud, "Hullo!" to Harry and running his eyes over the renovated Grimmauld Place. "Blimey, Harry, when did you and Sirius get into interior decoratin'?" he asked, awed by the new appearance.

"Not my doing," Harry replied, shrugging. "Sirius and Dr-- It's a long story, one that can wait a little while." Sighing, he glanced behind him at the fireplace. "Is Mione not with you?" he asked, his brow furrowing. He was almost sure his bright young friend would've gone to the Burrow just to make sure Ron packed everything, properly, and then came with him.

"Nope," Ron said, shaking his head. "She did write me though, with an entire list of what I needed to bring. Bloody girl even told me to check off what I took and then send it back for her approval," he told him, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath. "Right then, where can I put my-- Wha's that smell?" he asked, his mouth turning up in a grin. "I haven't missed dinner have I? I'm starved!"

Snorting, Harry shook his head but smiled all the same. "No, Dizzy is in making supper right now. The Order is due here in less than an hour, so..."

"The Order?" Ron asked, looking rather surprised. "Dad never said anything. Is it because you've moved in now? Security and the like?" he wondered, plopping down on the sofa across from him and sticking his feet up, looking at home immediately.

"No," Harry replied, sighing. "Actually, it's because... well, this is rather awkward," he said, quietly. He understood to an extent how hard it must've been for Sirius to explain his situation to Harry, especially given his past with Draco. Knowing that Ron absolutely hated Draco was going to make it even harder. "Ron, did your father ever mention Sirius having been married at one time?" he asked, lifting his brow.

Sitting up rather quickly, Ron shook his head. "No, I had no idea. Really? Sirius was married? So what happened? Did she leave him when he was sent to Azkaban?" he queried, jutting his head to one side.

"No, actually, she was killed shortly after he was arrested," Harry responded, quietly, a frown settling on his features. "By Lucius Malfoy," he explained.

Ron's jaw fell, his eyes widening with surprise. "Really? Well... Bloody hell, that's..."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, understand the loss of words. "And that's not all," he told him, swallowing. "You see, Sirius and his wife, Elly, they had a-- a son," he told him, clenching his jaw for a moment at the wave of jealousy that ran through him.

"Really?" Ron asked, his interest piqued, then fell. "He wasn't-- Was he killed too?" he asked, sounding upset at the thought. It was understandable to feel bad for Sirius at having lost his entire family, even though he didn't know what happened.

"Actually, no, his son is alive. He was... He was raised by Sirius' cousin and her husband actually," he told him, giving a small clue to who he was. "In fact, he's moved back in with Sirius recently, after a discrepancy at school."

"He's here?" Ron asked, his eyes widening and looking over to the door. "Right now?" he wondered.

"No, he's out. There was fight between him and Sirius, so he left for awhile. We don't know when he'll be back," he explained, shaking his head.

"Oh," Ron said, leaning back into the couch. "So what's he like? Do you get along with him?" he questioned, crossing his arms loosely.

"He's... difficult," Harry replied, his expression twisting into annoyance.

Ron must've noticed because he laughed, sitting forward. "That bad, eh?"

"You have no idea," Harry told him, sighing. "Listen Ron, Sirius' son... He's-- You're not going to like him. I know this, because you already know him. He's--"

"Mister Harry Potter sirs," Dizzy interrupted, stepping into the living room. "Sirius asks that yous and Mister Weasley join him in dining room for dinner," she said, bowing her head and leaving.

Sighing, Harry nodded and stood up. "We'll talk about this after dinner," he told his friend, as they walked across the front entrance to go into sit down at the table with a frowning Sirius.

"Hullo Sirius," Ron greeted, shifting slightly as the stiff air of things.

"Ron," he replied, nodding. "It's good to see that you've come to spend the summer with Harry, I'm sure he appreciates the company."

Nodding, Harry agreed, cutting into his delicious looking dinner. He wasn't surprised to see Ron dig in with enthusiasm, his mouth practically watering at the sight. There was hardly any conversation for the first few moments, until Ron broke it, telling them a story about George and Fred and a misconception with a girl who had accidentally tried the love potion while still inside the store and fell madly for both twins, much to their amusement and chagrin. He even had Sirius laughing, breaking out of his foul mood to brighten slightly.

After four servings, Ron pushed his plate away, his stomach actually full and his hand holding it as if it were ready to explode. "That was one incredible dinner," he told them, sighing. "Wherever you got that house elf, she's a real gem in the kitchen."

Clearing his throat, Sirius nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, she's my son's actually," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "Arrived this morning, in fact. Found her scurrying around the kitchen so fast we couldn't see her face." He glanced at Harry, as if he knew that Ron had been privy to the knowledge that Sirius had a son, but now who he was.

"Oh," Ron said, nodding, clearly looking slightly uncomfortable at having nothing really to say in regards to Sirius' son. "So, when is the Order due?" he asked, clearing his throat.

Sirius glanced down at a pocket watch he pulled from his vest pocket, having changed into his new clothes. "Soon, very soon," he replied, rising from his chair and taking on a frustrated appearance. "I don't think he'll show," he mumbled.

"Misters Potter and Weasley," Dizzy said, stepping into the kitchen and bowing at them, "a Miss Granger is waiting in the dens for yous."

"Thank you," Harry said, a grin raising on his face as he hurried from his seat to the living room. He half ran to Hermione, picking her up in a warm hug as she dropped her suitcase and duffel bag to the floor to embrace him back. "I wasn't sure when you'd show up," he told her, letting her down to the floor.

Sighing, she nodded. "I was held up by my parents. They wanted to spend one last dinner together because I won't be seeing them until Christmas," she explained, frowning. "I sent a letter through Hedwig, didn't you get it?"

Shaking his head, he shrugged. "I didn't look," he admitted. "There was some family drama," he mumbled.

"What?" she asked, her brow lifting.

Ron came up beside them, hugging Hermione sideways and saying a bright hello before going off on a tangent about how great dinner was, before Harry could think to reply. They sat down, caught up in conversation about how the first half of summer went for each of them. Harry completely forgot to tell them anything about Draco, too absorbed in enjoying the feeling of having friends around that really wanted to spend time with just him. A short while later the fireplace lit up and their faces turned to greet Tonks as she tripped through, barely catching herself in time and grinning at the trio near her.

"Wotcher Harry, Hermione, and Ron," she exclaimed. Standing, they all happily greeted the spritely young Auror and beckoned her over to the couch to talk for awhile.

Not soon after, the den began to fill with the many members of the Order. Including Fred and George Weasley who brought out a bag of tricks and gags to show Harry and a naturally unamused Hermione. Arthur and Molly Weasley took a seat on the couch, talking quietly about the nature of the meeting and wondering where Sirius was. Harry recognized the majority of people, while some names escaped him. He could clearly see Hestia Jones in a conversation with Moody on the other side of the den, his magic eye darting around in random circles. Bill and Charlie Weasley were conversing by the bookshelf, leaning against the wall and laughing about whatever it was they were speaking of. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were standing near the open entrance to the den, speaking in quiet tones, while the half-giant blushed furiously around his thick mane of browney grey hair. New Headmaster McGonagall was sitting primly on the sofa across from them, nodding her head at something Kingsley Shacklebolt was discussing with her; the way her mouth was set made it appear as if it were a troubling conversation. There were a number of other faces, but their names were left forgotten while Harry glanced around in search of Lupin and coming up empty.

"Harry, dear, where is Sirius?" Molly called out to him, her eyes looking around for him in the crowd.

Clearing his throat, Harry stood up, "I'll see if I can find him," he told them, walking toward the door.

"No need," came the voice of his godfather at the door. He motioned for Harry to sit back down and gave him a short smile before turning to the crowd of people before him. "As you are all aware, I've called an emergency meeting that none of you know the origins of," he began, clearing his throat. "I'm aware that the news I have to share with you all is going to be a large shock, but I ask that you please refrain from taking out your wand, jumping to conclusions, or acting at all uncivilized until I've finished explaining."

There were murmurs through the group, but they all agreed to withhold judgement until everything had been cleared up.

Nodding his thanks, Sirius continued, his eyes settling on Harry for a moment, as if gaining strength in some ways. "As most of you are unaware, before I was sent to Azkaban, I had a wife," he told them. There was a collective noise which quieted down when Hermione coughed for them to behave. Swallowing, Sirius briefly smiled at Hermione in gratitude. "She was... Her name was Elly and she was sadly killed in the events that followed by arrest," he told them quickly, rushing the words but they still came out clearly.

Harry noticed the look of understanding and sympathy that crossed the faces of those around him, though there was still an obvious question in the postures of every Order member. Why were they there? What did his wife have to do with anything? He wondered how shocked they were all going to be to find out that Draco, formerly Malfoy, was actually Sirius' son. Would their reaction be like that of his? Would any of them act horribly? Lash out even? The Malfoy's were a family that was greatly disliked and though Draco wasn't really one, he hadn't acted like anything but in his existence. That was bound to make many suspicious.

"However, with my confinement, there came a large problem," Sirius told them. "You see, I had a year and half old son when I was wrongly accused of murder. My wife, thinking that I had actually committed the atrocities I had been accused of, tried to..." Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and shook his head. "She tried to make a deal with the devil, so the saying goes, to ensure my release from prison. In doing so, all she was given was death however. Upon bringing my son with her, she had given him up to the married couple who killed her for asking their help, not on purpose but by default." A gasp went out around the group, and the questions began, low whispers and wondering could be heard but all jumbled together. Holding up his hand, Sirius hushed the crowd. "Instead of killing him too, they instead raised him, which brings me to the reason you are all here."

Backing up, he nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "Recently, my son has come back into my life and is now living with me here at Grimmauld Place. He has known since he was eleven years old who his biological parents were, and upon entering Hogwarts, he immediately told Dumbledore," his voice cracked slightly, but he recovered quickly, "that he was not on Voldemort's side. For over six years now, he has been collecting information for Dumbledore as a spy. I understand how ridiculous that sounds. An eleven year old boy, a spy for the Order. But I assure you, it's true. Dumbledore was in complete understanding of what had happened to him and knew what he wanted to do."

Glancing around, Sirius let out a shaky breath, a falling smile on his mouth. "He's made mistakes, he's done things he's not proud of for the sake of vengeance for me and Elly." His eyes fell as he clenched his jaw, stopping for a moment to think. "A lot of you are not going to accept him with open arms, many of you will question his allegiance, but I can fully tell you that both myself and Dumbledore had complete faith in him," he said, his eyes lifting to stare directly at Harry.

Molly cleared her throat, her hands wringing slightly in front of her. "Is he... Is he here?" she asked, her voice pinched. "I'm sure we'd all like to... know who he is."

Sirius shook his head, his face taking on the hard edge of anger it had earlier, but just for a moment before he shielded it from view. "Actually, he's--"

"Right here," came another voice from behind him. Remus stepped in beside Sirius, smiling briefly. "Sorry I'm late, I had to... coax my nephew out of the bathroom," he told them, glancing behind him. "He's slightly shy--"

"I am not shy," came the disgruntled reply of the boy hidden in the hall.

There was murmur of chuckles going through the crowd, clearly amused.

"Com'on now, don't hide," Remus told him, rolling his eyes up and shaking his head.

"I'm not hiding," he replied, sourly. "If you were in my place, how comfortable would you be stepping into a room with the entire Order?" he shot back.

While he couldn't be seen as Sirius and Remus were blocking the den entrance, his pacing could be heard and his browney blonde hair could be seen bobbing while he passed behind them. Harry looked around, seeing if anybody else with a higher position standing could spot him, but they all appeared just as confused as the next person, trying to get a peek but failing. Harry could picture the scowl on Draco's face, while he paced back and forth, arms crossed and witty remark hanging at the tip of his tongue.

"Not very," Remus replied, sighing, It surprised Harry just how at ease he seemed with Draco, as if he had this conversation with him daily and was already bored with it, but slightly amused all the same. "Show them all you're stronger than this and quit being a sissy already. Face them," he recommended.

"Did you just call my a sissy?" he asked, his pacing stopping as he turned to him, sounding both annoyed and flabbergasted as the insult.

"Care to prove me wrong?" he asked, a slow smirk appearing, much to Harry's astonishment.

"This is all a ploy," Draco muttered, sighing. "It would've worked if I were four, but guess what uncle Remus, I've grown out of the stage where I unintelligently step into a confined area, waiting to have my arse hexed off, just because you call me what a five year old girl would." He resumed his pacing, though he sounded a little more at ease.

"I'm wounded, good nephew, would I really allow you to have your arse hexed off?" he asked, not event turning around as he verbally sparred with the seventeen year old.

"That part of my anatomy is really at the bottom of the list when you think about it. I bet they're out for my head," he mumbled, sounding the tiniest bit worried.

"I swear on my Marauderness that I will not let you be hexed anywhere," Remus told him, holding up his hand in oath and smiling lightly.

"And what do I get if your Marauderness fails to protect me?" Draco asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Does it really matter? You'll be hexed of a head," his uncle told him, chuckling.

Sirius turned to look at his friend with a sour expression before turning his eyes heavenward.

"Oh, come now Sirius, let the boy have his moment of worry. You really are sending him into a den of people with questions and wands," Remus told him, lightheartedly.

"They've already agreed not to harm him until I've answered all their questions," Sirius told him, rather sharply.

"Yes, but they don't know who he is," Remus replied, pointedly. "You can't tell me Harry wasn't ready to hurt him when he figured out who he was."

Everyone turned to Harry, questioningly. Sighing, he shrugged. "The point is, I didn't," he said, rolling his eyes. He noticed Hermione frowning at him, likely annoyed that he knew something before she did and didn't share it with her. Then she turned her expression on Ron, as it was obvious he knew more than her. Her eyes thinned but she made no comment and returned her attention to what was going on across from them.

"He would've if I hadn't told him to toss his wand," Draco called out, waving his arm in the air to prove his point. "I think everyone should follow that example."

"Preposterous," a man called out in the crowd, shaking his head vehemently.

"Man's right there, boy," Moody responded, stepping forward with a grim expression. "We don't know who you are, you can't expect us to just toss our only weapon aside in the hopes that you won't kill us all. Constant vigilance!" he told them all.

"One boy against the entire Order, you must seriously doubt your crew's ability," Draco shot back, spitefully.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. "Must you be so suspicious?" he asked, turning to his son.

"I have serious reason to be," Draco replied, angrily. "You think just because they're the Order, they're trustworthy?" he asked, loudly. "I think we all remember Snape!"

"What are you implying?" Fred called out, sounding annoyed.

"I think he believes one of us is a traitor to our side, Fred," George said, his voice tinged with anger.

"As a _so-called_ spy for Dumbledore--" Fred began, crossing his arms and stepping forward with a scowl.

Following in his twins wake, George copied the movement. "--One whose infiltrated Voldemort's tight circle--"

"--We should question your allegiance--"

"--Just because you've reconciled with daddy dearest--"

"--Doesn't make you any less treacherous to us--"

"--For all we know, you're spying on us and are really--'

"--With that family who killed your mummy!" he partly taunted.

"--After all, she did think Sirius was really a killer--"

"--And didn't care enough to think of her son--"

"Rightly said, Fred!"

"Thank you George," he replied, nodding.

Sirius and Remus stared at them, a worried look on their faces as they turned to see Draco behind them, apparently coming up empty handed because they stepped into the hall, their head moving around swiftly. Before anyone could question where he went, Draco had appeared behind the twins. Kicking the legs out from under George and wrapping his arm around his neck in a head lock, Draco turned the wand up to press dangerously into Fred's throat, so swiftly people hadn't even though to react. "What did you just say about my mother?" he asked, through gritted teeth, a look of murder on his pale, drawn face.

The wands of every Order member in the room lifted, pointing directly at Draco with suspicion.

"Malfoy," Ron growled, rising from the couch, his wand shaking in his angry grasp.

"I can break his neck in three places before you could think of a spell, Weasley, back the fuck off," he yelled at the ginger haired colleague before turning back to the twins, unaffected by the wands pointed at him.

"Draco," Remus said, slowly stepping toward him. "They spoke without thinking, they're sorry."

"The hell we are," Fred shouted, his scowl still present.

"Right, we aren't apologizing to this g--" his last word was cut off by Draco applying pressure to his throat.

Sirius sighed, his eyes gazing around at the people around him. "Does it mean nothing when you agree not to draw your wand or jump to conclusions?" he asked, frowning.

"That was before he apparated to attack two of our members," Moody growled at him, his magical eye settling on Draco's stiff form.

"Draco, will you please lower your wand and let go of George? He's turning purple," Sirius told him, sounding defeated, but not in the least bit afraid of what his son might do; such trust.

"No," he replied icily, though he did loosen his arm just a bit to let the Weasley twin breathe again.

"After everything you've said about their parents, you could let this one go," Hermione called out, standing up and looking completely calm as she approached the three.

Draco glanced at her briefly. "I think this is a little different, Granger," he told her, though his voice was oddly not as cold as before.

"In what way?" she asked, lifting her wandless hands to her hips.

"In all ways," he growled.

"He's rather sensitive about his mother," Remus explained looking around at the people around him. "Lower your wands, he won't kill them. At the very most, he'll turn their gender 'round on them and make them sing for three hours straight." He looked around at everyone, shrugging. "It only happened once," he mumbled.

"Will you two stop bloody well telling people that!" Draco shouted, turning his gaze to Remus and Sirius. "I'm not sensitive about anything," he spat.

"Said the boy who attacked my brothers over a remark about his mummy," Ron reminded, his face turning purple.

"Watch it Weasely," Draco replied, his mouth turning up in a scowl.

"What's the matter, _Malfoy_?" he asked, purposely saying the last name with a sneer. "Does somebody have mummy issues?"

"Ron," Sirius warned, turning to him with an expression of austere caution.

Draco stared at him for a moment, and Harry was almost sure that his eyes turned a shade of ice blue before he disappeared from view, reappearing in front of the boy who had insulted him, causing Ron to stumble slightly. "You could say that," he told him, staring directly into his eyes. "Care to test me again?" he asked, sounding calm, though a sea of dark emotion was brimming out of him.

Ron snorted, trying to appear as if he weren't worried but failing miserably. "Any mother of yours couldn't be much to insult in the first place," he managed to say, before a fist collided painfully with his jaw, knocking him to the ground with colossal force. "Bloody hell," he moaned, rolling over and clutching his face.

"Draco Remus Black," his uncle chastised sternly

Sirius walked forward, his hand hesitantly resting on Draco's visibly rage shaken shoulder. Harry watched in awe as the events happened before him; for some reason, he hadn't reacted at all, knowing it would be resolved. Hermione and Molly were down by Ron, looking him over and, Harry knew, telling him off for what he had said. He watched as Draco shrugged the hand off his shoulder and pushed his way out of the den, his chest heaving as he left for his room. It was then that the Order lowered their wands, but stood uncomfortably as the Weasley twins brushed themselves off, looking peeved.

Turning on them, Sirius stalked to the two Weasley boys. "First, you insult my son, then you imply that my wife was somehow unworthy," he accused, stepping toward them with a dark expression. "Order members or not, step in my house with that attitude again, and I will personally hex you both until you are unrecognizable. Is that clear?" he asked, his voice booming around them. When they didn't reply, he repeated his question in a cold, dark voice. "Is that clear?" he partly screamed.

"Yes," they responded, quietly, shrinking slightly.

"Now, Sirius, you can't blame it all on the boys," Molly reprimanded, standing up.

"You defend them? Them and Ron?" he asked, turning to glare at her ferociously. "He watched his mother die," Sirius shouted, his voice shaking with rage. "He has nightmares about her death every single time he falls asleep. He doesn't think I hear him, but I do," he told the, his face twisted with anger. "The only person he will not allow anyone to speak of, and three of your sons happened to pick on the same one. Because of them, I'm going to have to search the bloody world tonight. I can guarantee that not only has he left his room, but he's likely already out of the bloody city!" he roared.

Pacing, he waved his arms around angrily. "It took me months! Months to convince him that you lot would understand what he's been doing." Stepping forward, he didn't seem to care that most of them were backing away from his bitter eruption. "Six years he's dedicated to taking down the darkest wizard any one of you have ever known, and you greet him with wands pointed and vicious insults to his family," he bellowed, shaking his head with frustration. "That's it. All of you are to leave. Now," he told them, pointing to the fireplace. "I hereby resign from the Order, good luck," he spat, leaving the room.

Harry watched in rapt shock as his godfather had an enraged fit in front of them all, explaining just a little more of the enigma that was Draco Black. He turned to Remus, thinking that he would have a few parting words of encouragement that he would make sure Sirius changed his mind, but was instead greeted with a look of disgust as he shook his head. "You know," he said, quietly. "He's a good boy. A smart, hard working boy, who only needed a small bit of encouragement from a group that is dedicated to taking down all he's against. He has problems, yes. And I'm sure many of you think he willingly helped kill Dumbledore, but you don't know the half of it. You've made your choice here tonight, and seeing as the majority of you are against my nephew, I too resign from the Order. My best wishes to you all," he said, before retreating from the den.

Harry stared at the exit to the room for a moment, before turning his face back to see those around him. Most of the Order were staring shocked at the places where Sirius and Remus had been, not completely believing what had just happened. Even Ron, who was now sitting up, cupping his jaw, was looking dejectedly out as if he had dreamed it all. Hermione, for the most part, looked calm and questioning of it all.

Molly was wringing her hands, looking around frantically before finally frowning at her twins and shaking her head. "The immaturity you two just showed! At an Order meeting no less!"

"We were trying to hurry up the process is all--" Fred said, crossing his arms.

"Bloody boy was taking forever to come out. Figured a little prompting was needed," George added, rubbing his neck.

"Didn't know his mum was such a sore spot."

"Though we did make a couple valid points!"

Harry felt uncomfortable as the entire Order stood around, as if they hadn't just been kicked out of the house. Seeing as it was now his house, he wondered if he should be the one to tell them to leave. Were Sirius to come down, he would likely treat them very unkindly, and Remus didn't appear to be in the best of moods either. They were all talking now, questioning and wondering if Sirius and Remus had really just quit the organization they had been a large part of. After Dumbledore had been killed, many had wondered who would take over as leader and though it was never official, Remus was brought up quite often. Harry could vaguely hear Ron being reamed out by his mother across from them, but it was drowned out by the guffaws many members were making. "A Malfoy," someone said, snorting. "The nerve..."

"What do you think we should do?" Hermione asked, leaning toward him, her eyes moving around the crowd. "It's not right for them to still be here. This is Sirius' house, and well... yours and Mal-- Dra-- And his too," she said, exasperated.

Nodding, Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, hoping he wouldn't sound weak when asking them to leave. Standing up, he cleared his throat. Before he could say anything, loud footsteps could be heard as his godfather and Remus hurried down the stairs. "I told you," Sirius shouted, searching for a coat in the closet near the front door.

"We'll find him," Remus assured, sighing. "There are only a few places he would've gone."

"He stopped at the bank this afternoon, he could be anywhere," Sirius yelled, pacing the floor. Stopping, he turned to see that the den was still filled with people. "What are you all doing here?" he asked, loudly.

"Sirius," Remus chastised. "They've only got one fireplace," he told him, though it was obvious no one had left.

"Whatever," Sirius muttered, waving his arms at them as if they weren't there. "He took her picture. He's not planning on coming back," he said, his hands on his sides as he stared at Remus seriously.

Hermione stepped out of the den, her hands clasped together and her shoulders squared. "Would you like help? I'm sure if we all search around, we'll find him much quicker," she offered.

Harry was surprised by how well she was taking it, but decided she was much more level headed than Ron. Walking out of the den, he stood beside his best friend, nodding at his godfather and Remus. "Yeah, we'd like to help."

"Harry?" Ron called out, surprised. "You can't be serious!"

Turning back, Harry sighed. "Ron, he's on the run from Voldemort. He could be caught by Death Eaters if he's not careful and he's probably not thinking straight right now." Frowning, he shook his head. "Look, Draco is not my favorite person, but nobody should have to face Voldemort." Turning back to Sirius, he nodded. "What can I do?" he asked.

Smiling at him thankfully, Sirius' shoulder seemed to sag with relief.

Harry turned back around to the people behind him, with business unfinished. "Those of you who aren't helping, can kindly leave through the floo system. You are no longer needed here, as I don't believe the Order meetings will be held here any longer. Goodbye," he said curtly.

He waited, to see what they would do, who would leave, how they'd find Draco. It was all a matter of trust; who trusted Sirius enough to believe in his son, who trusted Harry enough to know that he would never stand behind anything unless he believed in it, and then who was trustworthy enough for Sirius and Remus to keep in contact with after their fall out with the Order. There was a small possibility that the indiscretion would be forgotten, but only if the majority of the Order agreed to help find Draco. It was obvious now that both Remus and Sirius were highly loyal to Draco, no matter what it cost them. They wouldn't stand by and allow him to be beaten down, especially on a subject like his dead mother.

* * *

**A/N** _Hey! I know, I know, terribly long chapter! -sigh- But it was necessary... plus, I hate promising something will happen next chapter and not delivering. I said the Order, Hermione, and Ron would be part of it, and here they are! It just happened to be longer than expected. If you're confused about Draco's reaction about what was said about his mother, it will be explained over time. He truly is VERY sensitive on the subject, as you've read, and there are serious reasons as to why. It is NOT only the nightmares he has, which will also be explained. The next chapter is in Draco's POV. I'd like to know is any of you are interested in a Sirius POV chapter. Thanks for reading, please leave a review, I'd really like to know what you think._

_Much Love,_  
-**_Amanda_**


	5. 5

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_You are truly the most versatile writer I have ever had the pleasure of reading. You have about five fanfics going, yet they are all completely different. None of them are better than the other; they are all of the same high quality. All your characters are so in-character they're more like the real things, your events are definitely something that I could picture happening, and you portray emotions so beautifully. I could feel Draco's anger and frustration and sadness pouring from him when Fred and George insulted his mother. Everything seems so real in whatever you write. You make things come to life. I could feel Sirius's anger and sadness and all of his emotions with some clarity; it was like I was there. Everything you write is so completely beautiful. I love everything you write. Am eagerly awaiting the next installment of this beautiful story_." - _**PiperPaigePhoebe01**_ of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter four**: _Baile87chica, RB140990, BlackRosePoison-Orchid, Shaggy37, sweetgirl23, TheSlayerettes, bena24, ande, Sam's Firefly, **niic smiles, mskiti, cle be, Zarroc **_and _especially** Princess de la Plume, annieca, PiperPaigePhoebe01 **_and**_ galloping-goose._**

_**A Family Affair**_

-**5**-

Draco stared up at the dark blanket of sky that hijacked his vision; bright stars blinked out at him, thousands, millions, he didn't know and there was really no point in trying to count. He remembered trying to when he was a child though, couldn't have been more than five. Every night for a week Draco was adamant on finding out the exact amount of stars. All because of that evening when he had asked Lucius if they could go to the fair that coming weekend, to which he was given a very stern no. He had pleaded, begged even, but Lucius never changed his mind. Finally, apparently bored with Draco's asking, he said, "_If you can tell me the exact amount of stars in the sky, I will take you to the fair. But if you get the number wrong, then you'll never ask me to go to another fair again. Understood?_"

Of course, being so young, Draco had assumed that counting all the stars in the sky was an easy feat. He, at such a tender age, had already learn to count to five hundred, so really, he should have no problem. For six days he had counted, and every time he came up with a different number. He had even asked Narcissa if she knew, but she simply sighed, looking at him with exasperation and sending him back off into the yard with the house elf named Myx.

Finally, on the morning of the fair, Lucius asked, "_Well son, how many stars are there in the sky?_" a faint smirk on his face.

And Draco had stuck his little hands in his pant pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet and looking up from the corner of his silver eyes. "There is... a bajillion stars in the sky," he told him, sounding proud. "I counted them all!"

Lucius had stared at him a moment, placing his coffee on the table and turning to Draco with an expression that he still could not decipher. "_And do you have any proof of this, Draco_?" he asked.

Nodding, Draco looked up at him, smiling briefly, "I promise!" he told him, thinking that it should be more than enough.

Instead, he got a resounding slap to the face. "_Malfoy's don't deal in promises, Draco. We work with truths and lies. Never feed me a lie and call it a truth, boy. Go to your room; there will be no fair, not ever_."

Without crying, whimpering, or begging, Draco had gathered himself, leaving the dining room and calmly walking to his bedroom. After his father left for his daily business and his mother did whatever it was she did, he sat down in the window of his bedroom, staring out at the explosion of light coming from the fair just down the street from him. He let one single tear glide down his cheek, for the sting of his face and the sadness of a boy who was never allowed to enjoy being his age. And then, he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and pushed down those feelings of remorse and never allowed them to surface. Along with them, he buried childish idealisms of fairs, fun, and counting stars. That was the day his childhood died, never to be lived or brought up again.

He was laying on a hard roof, having climbed out the window and settling up top to get away from the situation in the den of Grimmauld Place. He hadn't meant to let his temper get the best of him, he found it was always in check as long as the topic wasn't Elly Black. His mother, such a tragic story she was; one that he truly couldn't take hearing, let along talking about. He loved her, like a son should love his mother. Like he loved Sirius, except with the added horror of knowing things he really shouldn't, of seeing things he shouldn't. Nightmares, oh how they plagued him incessantly. They started when he was young, before he even knew who she was really. He was over those childish moments though, so he never ran to Narcissa or Lucius in hopes that they would scare away the bad, replacing it with warmth or comfort. By now he had realized that they didn't care for him, not like other boys parents did. After Narcissa had explained the origins of Elly Black, and showed him through her pensieve, then Draco had come to realize that it was his mother who plagued his dreams. Bloodied, pale, drawn with death, and telling him something he couldn't hear. He had tried everything, dreamless sleep draughts, potions to make him dream certain things, even muggle methods like focusing on something until he finally fell asleep, in hopes that it would be in his dreams instead, but always, every night, he was greeted with her.

Elly was beautiful outside of his nightmares, she was elegant, regal, and simply exquisite. The charm placed on his features had been taken off shortly after Draco had arrived at Grimmauld Place, in hopes of finding refuge with his biological father after participating in the demise of Albus Dumbledore. When it fully dulled away, he found he had her hair; a browney blonde that shimmered warmly in the sun. His skin had darkened, the pale appearance fading away and replaced with a normal human shade. His eyes were still silver though, as they had originally been Sirius' colour of eyes before they dulled from the horrors of Azkaban. His build had filled out more, so he was no longer so thin that he appeared to be a pole, but instead held a strong form, especially around his now broad shoulders. He was anything but large, as Quidditch and running for the sake of escaping life had given him a toned, defined body type. Lifting the picture of Elly, he stared at it in the glow of the moonlight, frowning with the knowledge that Potter had been right; he did have his mother's nose. It wasn't that he didn't like having similarities between them, it was that Potter had pointed it out and was right. Apparently, he had her smile too, though he wasn't sure because he rarely did so and was never near a mirror when it happened. He found little reason in his life to smile, and so found scowling, frowning, or smirking to be better fitting for his mouth.

She radiated all that he didn't, that was obvious in the pictures he possessed of her. A calm, comforting presence in all circumstances it seemed; strength was obvious in her stance, and a sense of courage could be seen in her eyes. For a Slytherin, she glowed with what he was sure to be kindness and heart, a surprising trait in a House that thrived on deception, cunning, and overcoming all those in their way. There were always those who go against the regular form of the House they're put in though, and Sirius had said that she talked her way into Slytherin. He had been placed there because he was known as a Malfoy; there was no question in all those around him. He had discussed it all with Dumbledore ahead of time, knowing the Sorting Hat could do him serious damage if it for some reason thought he'd be better in Gryffindor or something. The Headmaster had talked to the Sorting Hat before bringing it to the Great Hall, telling it to place him in Slytherin, no questions asked. Perhaps he belonged there anyway, over the years he certainly proved himself to be a good Slytherin. Cunning, mean, intelligent, and goal driven. He would not let himself be swayed; vengeance was his ultimate end, and he would find it.

His entire day had not gone as planned; after taking a couple shots of Firewhiskey, he had hoped to drink the edge out of himself enough to act somewhat civilly to Potter. Unfortunately, his father and the Golden Boy had walked into the kitchen while he had been knocking back the last glass. He did not apologize, nor did he explain himself, but instead rose from his chair and asked if they were ready to go. Sirius had looked more than a little irritated and ended up being in a right foul mood during their journey to Gringotts. It was then he decided to do something reckless and only a little stupid, when he took the glamour charm off himself and managed to get out from the Malfoy vault. When he ran back into Sirius and Potter back outside, his father looked ready to send out a search party, which would end with them both in Azkaban, but he was just that desperate. Never having really dealt with a worried, frenzied parent, Draco had taken up on his rude, defensive behavior and made fun of Sirius for being so concerned. Which ended with a huge fight, where Draco had revealed his own jealousies of Harry, though they were rather hidden amongst his rant of annoyance with the boy-who-lived-to-butt-into-his-life-at-every-turn.

After leaving his father and Potter standing in Diagon Alley, Draco had apparated to a nearby wizarding apparel store. He spent an hour or so gathering up a new wardrobe and then he flooed back to Grimmauld Place, happy to see that it was only him and Dizzy home. Making his way upstairs, he put his bags down on his bed, only to be greeted by his new little house elf popping inside, asking if he'd like her to put his stuff away. After telling her he really didn't need her to do that more times than he could count, he simply let her do what she wanted and asked that she not tell anyone he had been there or that he left again. He didn't bother telling her where he was going, knowing that she could find him if she wanted or needed to. She had told him just that morning that she always knew where he was, which was unnerving to say the least. Flooing over to Remus' flat, he plopped down on the couch and cracked open a book sitting on the end table, not even bothering to alert his uncle that he was there.

"Dora, we talked about this, I don't think announcing our involvement is at the top of the list of things the Order needs to know," Remus could be heard saying as he exited his bedroom.

Draco looked up from the book in his hands, half amused and half disgusted to see his uncle standing with his shirt open, his hair mussed, and a satisfied grin on his face. Nymphadora Tonks came out a moment later, with blonde hair sticking out all over, a man's shirt wrapped around her torso, and nothing else. Her arms wrapped around Remus' shoulders, grinning at him madly, until she realized he had stopped walking and bumped right into him. "Well, remind me to alert you I'm here next time," Draco said, lifting his brow.

"Oh," Tonks exclaimed, her face widening with mild shock. Draco was lucky that she had known earlier, because he had a feeling she would be brandishing her wand at this moment, shooting off hexes and asking questions later.

"Draco," Remus greeted, shaking his head. "Your timing is just impeccable," he said, sarcastically.

"I'm gifted," Draco drawled, shrugging. He returned his gaze to the book before him, not the least bit fazed any longer with the near nudity of his uncle and his... Well, if Tonks was the daughter of Sirius' cousin, what would that make her to Draco? He really had no idea and decided not to think on it much.

"To what do I owe the visit?" Remus asked, sidling over to sit on the edge of the couch as he began doing up his shirt. Tonks decided to dress apparently, as she had turned back to the bedroom and walked away, her cheeks faintly glowing with mild modesty.

Draco shrugged, flipping a page as if it really wasn't anything important, he was just bored.

Sighing, Remus turned to him, plucking the book from his hands. "Draco, you only pop in like this when you're upset with your father and you want me to reassure you in some way."

Frowning, Draco glared out at the floor. "I do not," he denied.

"When was the last time you dropped in like this?" his uncle asked, scratching his chin with query.

"A couple weeks ago," Draco replied, leaning back in the couch. "I apparated in, hadn't seen you in awhile," he said, shrugging.

"And do you remember what happened that day?" Remus asked, quirking his brow.

Draco tipped his head, thinking back, finally sighing at the realization. "It was the day Sirius told me Potter was coming to live with us," he mumbled.

"Exactly," his uncle responded, nodding shortly. "And the time before that?"

Exhaling heavily, Draco lolled his head back against the frame of the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Around a month ago, when Sirius had decided that he should tell the Order about me."

"Mm," Remus agreed, crossing his arms and nodding. "So you see, these aren't willing and happy visits you have with me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy it when you come over. But it's better if you know why you come here. Now, what happened this time?" he questioned, settling into the couch for a long story.

"We decided to go shopping," Draco told him, sighing. "Me, Sirius, and Potter, because we're all lacking clothes. And I'll admit that I had a shot or two of Firewhiskey before we left, but that's because I honestly thought I might bite Potter's head off. So really, I was doing him a favor," he drawled, nodding. Remus chortled, but held back commenting until he was finished. "So then we went to Gringotts, which involved annoying little moments where Potter would try and make conversation. Sirius was pissed at me though, so he pouted the entire walk there," he told him, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "When we reached the bank, I realized that obviously Sirius can't get into his bank account. So, I took the glamour charm off and went as Malfoy to the family vault." Sighing, he shrugged. "When I got back, Sirius was having a fit, yelling about how I could've been found out and that I wasn't thinking. To which I replied that I wasn't going to spend Potter's money on my new wardrobe, because I agreed to put up with him, not act buddy-buddy, or some nonsense like that. In the end, I decided I didn't want to shop with them, so I apparated away. And that was that," he said, nodding shortly.

"So what you're saying is," Remus said, slowly, "you left your overprotective father in a bank where you knew he would freak out if you disappeared, without telling him anything of what you were planning, and then showed back up acting as if it were nothing. When he got angry, you kept up the indifferent facade until he pissed you off, likely with a comment about becoming closer with Harry or something, and you snapped at him." Tapping his chin, he nodded. "You likely said something about how you don't care what he says, you'll do what you want, and then voiced your worries, although hidden, about how Harry wants to be a real family. Then, when you realized you had been very open, you decided to leave," he deduced.

Glaring at him, Draco crossed his arms tightly and frowned. "Something like that," he mumbled.

Chuckling, Remus shook his head. "You know Draco, you can't keep this act up forever. I don't know why you do this to yourself. You care about Sirius, you consider him your father, and yet you get angry with him when he acts like it," he stated, sighing. "You want to be Draco Black, you want to be his son, why won't you just let yourself be you?"

"Because there is no me," Draco told him, turning dark, annoyed eyes on him. "There is no Draco Black, I don't know why either of you keep telling me to be him. I was raised as Draco Malfoy. I was told to act a certain way, bred to be a certain way. No where in that upkeep had I been told to be nice, courteous, or in any way caring. I can't be Harry bloody Potter, why won't you guys give this up?" he asked, frustrated.

"I'm not asking you to be Harry," Remus told him, frowning. "I'm asking you to be Draco. Black, Malfoy, whichever you really are. Just be you. Stop hiding behind this mean facade and say what you really think, act how you really want to. No more rude remarks to hide how much you're hurting, and I know you are." Turning, he sighed, staring at Draco for a moment. "The nightmares, Draco, about Elly--"

"Shut up," Draco cut him off sharply, rising from the couch. "You promised you weren't going to talk about her."

"You can't block her out, dear nephew, and it's only hurting you and your father to pretend she never existed. I know you care about her, if you didn't you wouldn't bring that picture of her to wherever you stay. You wouldn't dream of her every time you close your eyes. It's only making things worse, Draco." Reaching out, he placed his hand on his nephew's shoulder, squeezing it for reassurance. "Elly wouldn't want you to go through this; not over her."

"Please," Draco said, his voice shaking. "Can we just not talk about her?" he asked, walking down the hall to the bathroom and closing it tightly.

After Tonks managed to coax him out for lunch, Remus had agreed not to talk about Elly until he was ready and they enjoyed a nice, comfortable meal. Despite the fact that Draco wasn't exactly the nicest guy most people had met, he was easy to be around as long as people took the time to get to know him. Remus and Tonks were two of only three people he was kind and comfortable with, that knew about his real life and didn't act suspicious of him; the third being his father of course. Shortly after, Tonks had to leave as she was only on her lunch break, and Draco was left with Remus, who told him entertaining stories about his Marauder days, which Draco always enjoyed hearing. Before they knew it, Remus was saying that they had to head back to the Grimmauld Place because of the Order meeting. Of course, Draco was resilient to go; he wasn't up to talking to a room full of people who would hate him on sight and not care what the circumstances were, so he locked himself away in the bathroom. Remus had assured him that nothing was going to happen, everything would be fine. After fifteen minutes, Draco finally gave in and they showed up at his house just to hear Molly asking if he was there, so they could find out who he was.

Much to everyone's disgruntlement, the night did not go as planned; after being bugged a little by his uncle, Draco was sure that the only way to keep himself safe was to ask them all to put their wands down and out of arm's length. Of course, they hadn't agree to that. But, the Weasley twins had to go a step further and not only accuse him of working against them for Voldemort, but insult Elly too. Now, Draco and Elly had their issues and he sometimes said things about her to make himself look as if he didn't care, like when he commented that she should've been more trusting of Sirius when he was explaining things to Potter. But in the end, he loved his biological mum, even if she did make a mistake and he had some serious issues he was very much pretending he didn't need to work out. And no one, absolutely nobody, is allowed to speak ill of Elly. Not only are they not allowed to talk about her at all, but speaking badly of her ends in Draco losing his common sense. Which is exactly what happened when Fred and George Weasley accused both he and his mother of being something they weren't. So, he put one of them in a headlock and threatened the other with his wand, much to the shock and horror of the entire Order. It was stupid of him, he knew; not only to attack two members but to actually do it in front of the rest of the Order too.

And then, Ron Weasley had to go and say the stupidest thing he possibly could, which is when the last thread of cooperative Draco snapped. A sharp punch to the face sent the boy on the floor and left Draco in ruins in front of a room of people he did not wish to be near. It was his father's understanding hand on his shoulder that made him run; his shoulders and back were shaking, his chest was heaving, and any minute he was going to do something stupid, like cry. So he ran; all the way up the stairs, into his bedroom, where he took the picture of his precious mum and climbed away to solitude.

Above his bed, there sat a window, and upon climbing out of it, Draco stood on a ledge. Wrapping his arms around the roof, he used his upper body strength to pull himself up and over until he was on the roof of Grimmauld Place, where he had found quiet peace many times before. It was flat, hard, and a little uncomfortable. Which is why he had taken a blanket with him, not just any blanket though, but the one he had been wrapped in the day his mother had brought him to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa had kept it locked away in her wardrobe all those years, as Lucius wouldn't allow him to be swathed in anything but the finest, thinnest silks. He found comfort in the warm blue blanket, years later, after he had stolen it from Narcissa and took it with him when he left for school. He kept it locked away in his school trunk, a weakness in his life he knew, because he couldn't allow the others to see it. It was only after he had run away to Grimmauld Place that he'd take it out and wrap himself in it. He kept it under the warm blanket of his bed, hidden from both his father and his uncle's eyes.

Now, as he lay staring up at the sky of uncountable stars, he let the worn blue blanket warm his soul and soak up the broken body of a shattered boy who missed a life he never had. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he chastised himself internally for being weak, for letting himself indulge in childish dreams of being a family and having adoring parents. Of a nice, loving woman, with soft browney blonde hair and a caring smile, who rocked him to sleep each night, singing a tune he could easily repeat but never allowed himself to. Of a good man with silver eyes and dark hair, wanting to care for him and share his life with his son.

Draco felt a shudder run through him, begging for release, but he squelched it, there was nothing left of the boy who was hurt inside, crying for release from his caged existence. He would push through, forget his pains, and find a way to destroy Voldemort. And when all was done, when his vengeance was complete, only then could Draco rest; his eyes, his heart. Then he'd let the pain of it all roll free until he was nothing but a broken little boy, searching for how many stars were in the sky, wishing for the day that he would get to go to the fair.

There was a ruckus below, as people left the house and Draco's ears strained to hear their voices. "He can't be far," he heard his uncle say calmly.

"He can apparate," Sirius replied, shouting. "He's been all over the world, he could be anywhere by now."

"Start with the basics," Granger told them, easily. "Top ten places he would go?" she asked.

"Remus', Tonks', here..." Sirius sighed, and Draco could hear the sound of him kicking something rattle through the night. "Narcissa's?" he suggested, unsure.

"Wha' about Snape's?" one of the Weasley's called out.

"No, no," Sirius told them, angrily. "He hates Snape. He'd never go to him."

"What about that girlfriend a' his?" a boy called out. "That Slytherin girl, with the black hair," he told them.

Draco rolled his eyes, his mouth curling with disgust.

"Parkinson," Granger deduced. "Pansy Parkinson."

As expected, to Draco anyway, Remus burst into laughter. "P-Parkinson? He loathes that g-girl," he managed through his chortling.

"Really?" Potter's voice could be heard, wondering. "They always seemed cozy at school."

"Appearances, Harry," Sirius told him, sounding upset. "He always had to keep up appearances. Most of the things you'll attribute to him are a facade to keep anyone from realizing he isn't Malfoy's son. If _you_ notice, then obviously a man whose been around nearly all his life is going to pick up on it."

"It's like a play," Granger said, sounding as if she really understood. "He's stuck playing a part, which he uses to better his act of vengeance, only to find that the character he's been playing all this time has become like a safety net. That way, he doesn't have to show emotion or feeling, he can just hide behind the act of being a Malfoy." She let out a heavy sigh. "Sounds lonely."

Draco wanted to tell her he was not lonely, he wanted to yell at her that she didn't know anything about him. But he couldn't, because she was right. He was lonely; always had been, always would be. A warm blue blanket wouldn't change that, and really, he wasn't sure if he was ready to come out of his lonely existence. He didn't know how the world worked for anyone but a Malfoy. During his life, the entire part that he had real control had been directed solely at getting vengeance on those who had wronged him and his family. How was he to be a normal boy now? Or even when it was all over? He didn't know what a normal boy was... He knew what an obedient soldier was. He knew what a hard working, intelligent student was. And he knew what a strong, cunning Slytherin was. But being a normal boy alluded him; much like that of being a son.

He was doomed; stuck living only until he got the one wish he had wanted since he was eleven; the demise of Voldemort. He had never questioned what would happen after, assuming he would likely die in the subsequent war against the Dark Lord. He had nothing to live for; his real father had been imprisoned, his mother was dead, the people who raised him cared nothing for him. But his plans had been made when he was eleven, and in reality so much and so little had changed. He had a total of three people who cared; his father, his uncle, and Tonks. And still he held tight to his dreams of bringing down Voldemort from within, or any way really. And if he were to die from the fight, he would go down smiling his mother's smile, because vengeance was all he wanted, all his goals pointed to.

Perhaps that was why he didn't get close to Sirius, he was sure that when it all came to a head, he would join his beloved mother in heaven. He would leave the land of the living, a sense of satisfaction inside of him for having finished what he started when he was but a boy with a vendetta. It was best not to make connections anyway, they only tie you down when you should be looking out for yourself. People, friends, family, they were all useless when you were trying to exact revenge. They will try and talk you out of it, try and tell you it's not worth your life, but you know better. Draco knows better.

He was destined to find out about his parents when he was eleven, just shy of when he was due to attend Hogwarts, where he would then meet Albus Dumbledore, a figurehead for the Light side. From there, he would become a spy for the Order, unbeknownst to most of them, and henceforth he would exact his slow, deceitful revenge against Lord Voldemort. And in his sixth year, to gain the stance he needed, he had to do one little job for the Dark Lord, just one last thing to put him in with the Dark side. One mission before he would be close enough to learn everything that would destroy Voldemort for good.

However, standing there and staring at the Headmaster that had helped him all those years, he came up short of being a murderer. And Dumbledore had said it right when he stared right into Draco, telling him, "_Draco, Draco, you are not a killer._" He had held strong to that notion while Draco had to fight with himself; vengeance or the life of a good man? If anyone knew how much Draco had put into his vendetta against Voldemort, it was Albus Dumbledore, so in some ways, yes, he could understand why Draco was trying to kill him all year long.

Fruitless attempts, he could've done better, however, Dumbledore was right, he didn't want to kill him. He had wanted him to figure out the truth behind things, but didn't tell him of what he was doing. He couldn't explain why; not to himself, not to Dumbledore. Perhaps he was trying to prove that he could kill; he could destroy Voldemort. Surely if he could forget about the life of Dumbledore, then he could defeat the Dark Lord without remorse. Instead though, standing with his wand shaking desperately in his grasp, staring down at Dumbledore as he slipped to the floor, weak and barely able to speak without pause, saying everything Draco knew to be true, he just couldn't go through with murdering him.

Then, as he made his decision not to kill his Headmaster, to go about defeating Voldemort some other way, to get close another way, four Death Eaters had broken in; Fenrir Greyback included, much to his horror. And they pressured him, shouting at him to do his job, but he just sat there, shaking, knowing it was too late for him, he couldn't do it. He was almost sure then that he was to be killed; were it not from Greyback or the other Death Eaters then surely Voldemort or Snape would slaughter him. And there he came, Snape with his sneer and his pale, pointed face, and without a trace of remorse he had _Avada_'d Dumbledore, ignoring his pleading, his trusting voice.

Draco was dragged from that room, from the dead remains of a man who had helped him in ways no other had. He knew Potter was trailing after them, not far behind, his wand drawn and an intense hatred brewing inside of him. In that moment, Draco prayed that Potter's aim would be steady and true, that it would strike him down for his involvement, for his bitter thoughts that he could murder Albus Dumbledore without a trace of remorse, like Snape so easily had. Instead, he was given freedom by Snape and almost the moment he made it outside of the gates, he apparated to a street corner down from Grimmauld Place.

Shivering, soaking wet now from the rain that poured around him as he dragged himself down the street, he managed to bang on the door to his father's house. Greeted by a worried and concerned Sirius Black, Draco broke; he cried, he sobbed, he begged forgiveness, and he admitted what he had done. Because he had known that he was going to have to run, he had stuffed a bunch of random clothes in his trunk, along with the blanket his mother had wrapped him in, and hid it outside the gates of Hogwarts. He remembered dropping it to the ground near the front door as he collapsed on a heap in front of Sirius, speaking nonsense and telling him he was sorry. It was a wretched moment, one far too filled with emotion for Draco to think over long. So he pushed the desperate night from his mind and focused back on the conversation of the people below, apparently going searching for him.

"Well, there are many of us and only one of him, we're bound to find him," someone said.

"This could just be a rebellion moment in his life," a woman suggested, sounding as if she were wise on the subject. "He may have run away for the night, but I'm sure he'll return in the morning. The boy has to eat, doesn't he?" she told them all. Draco decided it must be Molly Weasley, only she would think of a boy needing to eat as the reason he would return home after a horrible conflict. Her boys could eat the entire school out of business.

"No, you don't understand," Sirius told them, sounding defeated. "He took her picture. If he's taken her picture, he likely doesn't expect to be back for a long while. He doesn't leave that picture unless he's sure he'll be seeing it soon. And it's gone. I looked. It's gone. Meaning he's gone and now... I--" He made a strangled noise that Draco hoped wasn't a cry. "You don't understand. None of you understand him. You don't _know_ him. He's very complicated."

"What's not to understand?" a boy asked.

"Yeah," someone that sounded similar but not the same queried. "Boy has thing about picture--"

"--Boy takes picture with him when he's leaving for good, or a long time--"

"--Boy gets mad, leaves, takes picture--"

"--Meaning boy is really gone, and it's not some silly rebellion--"

"--Very easy to understand, right George?"

"Right Fred."

"Complicated how?" Granger could he heard asking. Bloody curious girl, that one, Draco thought, frowning.

"It doesn't matter. We're wasting time. Where is Tonks?" Sirius demanded, coming to the end of his string. "Has anyone heard word from her? Did she go to her loft?"

"She flooed back to say he wasn't there and that she was checking the park nearby. Says he frequents it when he's in a foul mood and Lupin isn't around," someone informed his father.

They began listing off places he might be, including many he had simply mentioned in conversation. Draco listened as they spoke of a few places he'd only strolled through once or twice. He let them go about their manhunt, flooing and apparating away to all sorts of places, coming up empty handed. He considered telling them that he was on the roof, but instead stared up at the sky, their conversation entering his ears at half-volume as his eye roamed the burning stars in front of him. He briefly heard someone ask if they'd actually checked the house, in its entirety, who he thought to be Granger, as it sounded rather know-it-all-ish. When she got back a biting retort of, "Of course we checked the bloody house! We're not idiots," from his father, Draco had to stifle a laugh.

As the night went on, the air chilled, not too much as it was early August, but enough to make him pull the blanket around him tighter. His eyes were heavy, tired from life, from thinking of all that he had, from running away from Sirius without physically running. He didn't want to fall asleep though, knowing his agonized screams would be heard the moment his nightmare began. They would surely know where he was then; they would find their way to the roof, only to yell at him and tell him what a lunatic he was being. He didn't need that, so he forced his eyes open, his sleep away, and he counted the stars. He figured math would keep him awake, a goal would keep him going. All he had to do was count all the stars, and a solution would come to him. He wouldn't be stuck on the roof forever, wishing away everything and all the same wishing it back. He heard a distant noise in the back of his fuzzy mind, which he was partly sure had to be far away, but then knew he was so tired it could've been right beside his head.

"There you are," came the soft female voice of someone he knew but couldn't name for his mind was far too blurred. Sighing, she leaned down next to him, shaking her head. "You have the whole of the Order out searching the world over for you, you know," she stated, simply.

He blinked up at her, willing his eyes to clear enough so he could see her face. So familiar, she sounded like someone he knew. Perhaps not well, but enough to remember her voice and know that he knew her without having to see her face. He let out a long breath, almost a sigh, and stayed silent as she stared down at him, at least that's what he assumed she was doing as her head didn't moved from it's position tilted above him.

"Your father is going to have a heart attack any minute now if you don't show up," she told him, quietly, almost sadly.

"At the very most, he'll give himself a headache from pacing and muttering," Draco managed to mumble to her, the chill biting at his uncovered face.

She chuckled morosely, shaking her head. "You're half asleep, supposedly missing, and yet you still have something mildly selfish and rude to say. I could applaud your lack of morals, but I simply can't believe how heartless you could be."

A moment before his eyes cleared it clicked in his mind who he was sitting next to, talking to. "Come now Granger, you don't really believe I have a heart, do you?" he asked, picking up his facade as quickly as he had dropped it to lay idly on the roof; choosing desperate depression over strong resolve.

"Drop the act, _Black_, we all know you're not nearly as mean as you come off," she replied, almost meanly.

"How much of you is sure that it's an act?" he asked, staring up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps I mixed my already mean interior with the Malfoy exterior, hmm? Maybe I like how I am; even enjoy mocking and hurting harmless little muggleborns like you. In fact, it's possible that I sit 'round in my room, coming up with torturous way to act uncivilized and condescending to you and everyone else, simply because I can. It's not a _play_, Granger." Sitting up, he glared at her darkly. "I'm not some actor walking 'round with a script in his back pocket, thinking up ways to hurt you to hide my pain. I'm rude, mean, and I have a scathing tongue. Whether that's Malfoy or not, doesn't matter. It's all me. If you want to think that it has something to do with my hiding my _feelings_ go ahead and think that. But for the record, any feelings I might have, have nothing to do with anything remotely close to you. So piss off, forget you ever saw me, and we'll both live happily ever after as if this encounter never happened," he told her, laying back down on the roof to stare up at the sky with brooding silver eyes.

Huffing, Granger stood up, patting herself clean and crossing her arms. Sighing, she shook her head at him. "Do you know how I know you aren't as horrible as you say you are, Draco?" she asked.

He was acutely aware of how odd it sounded to hear his name from her mouth; he didn't know if he hated it, or enjoyed it. Grunting for her to continue, he hoped he sounded indifferent.

"Just then, during your rant," she said, nodding, "you said muggleborn."

Rolling his eyes, he turned to her. "So?" he asked, frowning.

"_Malfoy_ would've called me Mudblood," she responded, before turning around and exiting the roof before he could say anything back.

After she had disappeared and he was sure that she wasn't anywhere near by, he shook his head at the sky, letting out a mild laugh. "I know," he whispered.

Draco never said anything he didn't mean; things were planned out ahead of time. The only time he slipped up was when Elly was brought up or he fought with his father. His mind worked before his mouth, so the way he wanted things to sound came out just the right way. If he wanted Potter to be suspicious of him, he could manipulate words and tones to make himself sound a certain way. It was easily to manipulate people by first manipulating himself. Just then though, while speaking to Granger, he was not about to reveal himself to her. She wasn't his friend, wasn't anything to him really. But he wasn't going to let her walk away thinking she had been wronged; she'd go running to Potter, he'd go off to Sirius, and then Draco would be in even deeper. So, he threw her a small lifeline. He had said specific things to make her wonder, to test her trust level, and oddly enough she came out looking pretty damn trustworthy. It wasn't as if Draco was going to cart off and spill his feelings and thoughts to the little know-it-all. No, he had enough complications in his life.

Sighing, feeling more awake, he decided not to leave his father hanging in complete misery and wonder. Hovering his blanket back into his bedroom, he apparated to the corner down the road, remembering that it was where he had gone after the death of Dumbledore. Shaking his head to rid it of the memory, he began walking down the street. He could feel the picture of his mother and him digging into his palm as he held it against his chest, his arms crossed. He had been given the photo during the summer after third year. Sirius had framed it, handing it to him and telling him the story behind the day. Draco could see it playing out in his mind and still he brought the picture out for him to look at.

A faint drizzle had stared, water dripped onto the frame of Elly Black laying back on a sofa, her arms high in the air as she cradled Draco above her. Both of them were laughing, grinning as Sirius took their picture. Draco's little legs were squirming, kicking out and around in his small blue pajamas, a halo of blonde and brown strands of hair sticking out all over his round head. Her legs were bent as she would soon rest him against them, standing only because she was holding him up. Then she'd blow strawberries on his tiny belly, smiling up warmly at him, a faint pink glow to her cheeks.

He could see the gates now, just a few feet away from him, so close and yet so far. A group of people milled about the front yard, likely talking about where their next stop was. Darkness had absorbed everything but Grimmauld Place. While every house around them had their lights off and the neighbors slept soundly in their beds, his house was alive and booming. Nearly every room in the home appeared lit up and glowing, bustling with activity. The rain cooled his face, making it numb. His hair was damp, hanging down in thick locks. Pushing open the gate door, he walked up the cement pathway, right past the astonished faces of the Order members hanging about outside. Into the house he walked, his head high, no fear in him whatsoever. He could hear the whispering voices in the den and knew them to be the Weasley clan and the Golden Trio.

As he walked upstairs, he heard Remus call out from behind, causing him to pause in step. Instead of turning, he waited for his uncle to reach him on the stairs. A moment later, he was beside him, simply saying that he was glad he had come back and the next time he scared him like, he'd be hung upside down from the roof, in nothing but a silly looking dress and a grin. Draco snorted at the absurdity but didn't doubt that the Marauder beside him might actually do it. He said nothing, but looked over at his uncle with a mild expression or remorse for his actions. "His bedroom," Remus had told him, knowing that Draco was silently asking where he could find his dad.

Trailing up the rest of the stairs, he made his way down the hall to his father's door. He didn't bother to knock, knowing Sirius would be pacing, not listening to outside noises. It's how he got when he was worried; he tended to lock himself up in his head, trying to devise a way out of his troubles. Draco hadn't meant to scare him so much, or at all really. But he needed to be on the roof, needed to clear his head awhile. He had done a few stupid things and he wasn't yet ready to apologize for them. But that didn't mean he wanted Sirius beating himself over the head for it all. He stood in the doorway, dripping, cold, and looking uncomfortable as Sirius stopped mid-pace, realizing Draco was there.

In a matter of seconds, Draco found himself being hugged. It was odd, it had happened so very rarely. Sirius was shaking, but he wasn't really crying. It was like dry sobbing, as he clutched at his son. Draco didn't know what to do but he did know that his father was going to rage at him when he calmed down. Instead of avoiding it like he usually did, Draco decided to hug him back. It took a moment for him to embrace him and finally feel comfortable. But when he relaxed, let the muscles of his torso fall into a normal stance, he no longer felt like a statue. It scared him, how when he hugged his father, he felt the need to tell him everything. He didn't though; he reacted to that feeling as he did all others, by stuffing it down and pretending he'd never felt it. One day, he thought, perhaps one day.

* * *

**A/N **_Hey guys! Hope this chapter has been enjoyed! Next chapter will be Harry's I think. Talking with his friends, discussing the problems he has with it all. Just so you are all aware, this is a **DB/HG** story. I'm still thinking of possible Harry pairings. Perhaps none. He might just focus more on having a family, feeling accepted, that sort of thing. Sirius' POV next! Thanks for reading, please leave a review, it's greatly appreciated._

Also, please check out my new two-shot "For You, Always For You." A beautifully, romatic story about Hermione and Draco shortly after Dumbledore's death. It's all finished and I'd love to know what you all think!

_Much Love,  
-_**Amanda**


	6. 6

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_Wow. Just wow. I love how your writing makes me feel like I'm actually there, and you already understand everything in the story. You bring so much emotion in the story, without getting rid of Draco's harshness or edgyness. You bring in Hermione at exactly the right time; it's just completely beautiful. Hermione seems like the perfect one for Draco, and I normally despise Draco/Hermione. You make Draco/Hermione actually seem possible, and that is something I prize. This could actually happen in the real world of Harry Potter. Your writing of Draco and Hermione rival J.K. Rowling's...you're that good. I don't say that about many authors, so you are definitely one of the best out there. I have all the confidence in the world that you will be able to write a best-selling book; perhaps one to rival J.K. Rowling's_." - _**PiperPaigePhoebe01**_ of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chaper five**: _Tenshisangel, Dizi 85, cle be, BlackScream16, keira14, ANdie, Zarroc, Lily Hermione Potter, Laendra, anie smiles, Hotkat144, Oona Potter, Sam's Firefly, bethygirl94, **niic smiles, mskiti, **_and _especially** PaigePiperPhoebe01, Princess de la Plume, Shaggy37, annieca** _and **_galloping-goose. _**

_**A Family Affair**_

-**6**-

Sirius gripped his son with such ferocity he had to force himself to lighten the desperation behind it. He had been overwrought with fear; in a way only a father can, he supposed. Draco was strong, cunning, resourceful, and knew extensively how to defend himself, but he was too hot headed for his own welfare. Sirius knew that Fred and George Weasley had made a grave mistake in what they had said, not just because of Draco's reaction, but also because of his own. Elly was a very important part of his life and though he was just now sharing it with the Order, he had expected more respect from them. While Draco was new to them in some senses, concerning his behavior, background, and true allegiances anyway, he was still Sirius' boy. After so long, all the years he spent longing for the life he had worked for, Sirius finally had his second chance and nothing was going how he wanted.

When Sirius had met his full grown son for the first time it had been awkward and heart wrenching, he could remember the distinct rip at his heart that begged for forgiveness. He stood, staring at Draco for what must've been five minutes straight. Tears had built up in his eyes, as he held a hand against his heart, wondering if it were still beating at all. They took the glamor charm off him long enough for Sirius to see his real son; to see him and Elly in the boy he had never had the opportunity to raise. With his browney blonde hair, silver eyes, and natural glowing skin. He was tall, much like Sirius himself, with a strong build and a rather stiff posture. A devilishly handsome boy too, which Sirius certainly accosted to being _his_ son.

They say that a parent loves his child unconditionally; no matter how often he's seen them, whether or not they get along, how they look or act; that was all shelved. All Sirius had to do was see his son in front of him, to see that faint look in his eyes that reminded Sirius of Elly; one of kindness, sincerity, and a longing for acceptance. Draco kept it well hidden though, behind eyes as cold as ice, as sharp as knives as they glared into anything that crossed his path. He was quiet for what felt like days, and it was oddly funny that his mother's portrait was what caused his son to speak.

The relationship he and Draco possessed was rocky to say the least; Sirius was always on edge with what he said or did, worrying that he might upset his only son. While Draco was reserved, secretive, almost emotionless, it was really just hiding a deep sense of hurt and abandonment. He had an image, one he kept intact even when outside of the criticizing eyes of the public. He tried to act impassive, as if nothing bothered him. That he had one sole purpose in life and not even having his real father there in front of him could deter him. He wanted vengeance, thirsted for it really. He had given himself to his cause; pushed down whatever feelings and emotions he had to put all of himself into ending the existence of Voldemort. Six long years he dedicated himself to doing all it took to rise in the ranks of Death Eaters, to become close enough to destroy the Dark Lord.

Sirius wondered if it was his vendetta that left him so desperate and dark though, or if it were possibly the existence he had lived through. There were only a few subjects that Draco would not allow broached; Elly, his plans for Voldemort in-depth, and his life as a Malfoy. It wasn't that he held the vicious family in high regard, he simply didn't want to discuss the life he led with them. Sirius was plagued with questions, he wanted to know all about Draco's life, from childhood to teenage years, but he let him have his privacy, thinking if he pushed, he would find himself sonless.

Thirteen years he spent in a prison cell, dirty and dying inside. The only things keeping him alive were his strive to get his vengeance on Pettigrew, and finally getting his son back. Narcissa had assured him that he knew who his real father and mother were, that Draco had grown up to be an intelligent, hard working, good boy. Though she hadn't gone into much detail, as she really had no true insight to who Draco really was, she was sure of the fact that Draco was not like Lucius. His grades said enough about his smarts, as he had gained them all his own, not needing the Malfoy name to fall back on in that respect. She had no knowledge of Draco's plans of being a spy though, she had simply thought that Draco would live a double life. Perhaps visiting his real father, but never giving up his name as Malfoy. Sirius almost pitied her now, sitting lonely in her huge mansion; a husband in jail and Draco nowhere to be found. She probably couldn't understand why he wouldn't want to be the perfect Malfoy heir, and Sirius often wondered if his cousin understood what family really was.

After two rather unsuccessful years, Sirius found that the sad and horrible death of Albus Dumbledore was what had caused his son to reach out to him. For one brief moment, as he listened to his son sob about all that he had done, everything he couldn't, and beg for forgiveness, for help, Sirius couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride at being the person Draco went to. In that moment, Sirius learned that his son trusted him; that he really believed Sirius to be his shelter after slipping from grace. He changed then, from Malfoy to Black in one sharp moment. He was Sirius' son then, not the Malfoy heir. And he was a hurt, scared, desperate boy, in need of help.

He explained in full what had happened, how he couldn't kill Dumbledore, not even to reach his goal of getting close to Voldemort. He didn't have it in him, though he tried a few times only to fail and cause harm to innocent people. He had made mistakes, had set out to kill a good man and found himself incapable. He was confused more than a little confused, blind, and obsessed with revenge. But we're all flawed, and there was no way Sirius was going to turn away his son; he could never do something so heartless.

Even after weeks of slowly cracking away at the shell of Draco, he wasn't nearly as close to him as he had hoped. They could talk about almost anything, often falling into a witty banter of sharp remarks and brash statements. However, many subjects were strained and Sirius had quickly learned that Draco would shut down if things got too serious. His mother was a sore subject, though Sirius hadn't learned just how much until he had realized his son was suffering through nightmares about her. He was smart enough never to tell Draco he had heard him screaming, crying, shouting for it all to stop, but he instead asked Draco, "Your mother, Draco, do you remember her?" He could still remember the look of shaking pain that ran across Draco's face, of the sadness that ripped through his eyes with such ferocity it was almost as if she had died just moments before. He found himself stupefied, without response, and didn't see Draco again for a very long three days.

When he came back, he simply walked through the front door and up the stairs silently. Sirius and Remus had appeared in the front area, ready to yell, to scream at him for just leaving without sending word that he was at least okay. He was ready to throttle him for leaving him like that; worried and shaken about what he might do. But before either of them could get a word out, Draco had turned, his eyes shimmering with what Sirius thought to be tears, but couldn't be sure. And all he had said were two dark words, an answer to a question that had apparently hurt him deeply: "Every day." He spoke in a whisper, but the reply held such emotion that both he and Remus had been shocked silent. And with that Draco continued on to his room to fall into a pained, troubled sleep.

There were moments where he tried to talk to him about her, he'd bring up a moment where Draco reminded him of her, but if he ever saw that look of fear or pain cross his son's face, he changed the subject. Remus told him he shouldn't ignore it, that it would be better to break through Draco's resistance and help him with his problem, rather than let it continue. It was hard, emotionally tearing, and though both he and Remus were slowly trying to get Draco to open up, they instead found him closing off even more. He had no idea what his nightmares held, but they had to be scarring, because the screams that exited his mouth were so terrible, he often felt as if his son was dying inside. He assumed that the pain Draco felt every time his mother was brought up stemmed from the dreams he had; since he hadn't known his mother all that well and couldn't miss her in the way a child who had grown up with their mother might.

He knew how he hurt over Elly, how long it had taken for him to be able to speak her name without feeling his heart tear into tiny pieces. But Draco had actually seen his mother's death, even if it was through somebody else's memory. Whatever happened, whatever he saw, had to of seeped into his subconscious. At least that's what Sirius suspected; he didn't know how long Draco had been having the nightmares either. It drove him nuts that he couldn't talk to his son about it, but he was so desperately scared that he'd lose Draco if he kept pushing him. He found that Draco did come back though, which was reassuring. That he returned after the escapade Sirius had forced him into earlier said something, and he truly hoped that his son wasn't about to say goodbye or suggest that he go somewhere else again, because he simply couldn't take it.

"Was that the Order down there?" Draco asked, his words muffled by the his father's shoulder.

"Yeah," Sirius replied, still not letting him go, but loosening his arms around him. "They agreed to help look for you. Even after Remus and I quit," he added, frowning slightly.

"You quit?" Draco asked, pulling back to stare at Sirius surprised.

"After what those two boys said, of course I did," he replied, wishing he could hug him again. It was so rare that his son let him act at all fatherly, and though Draco appeared a little old for hugs, Sirius wasn't too old.

"But you can't quit," he told him, shaking his head. "It's... It's the Order!"

Chortling, Sirius shrugged. "So what? I'll start my own organization. We'll call it... The... Well I don't know, but I'm sure I'll figure out a very stimulating name."

Rolling his eyes, Draco crossed his arms and shook his head. "No, you and Remus have to be part of the Order, it's just not right that you aren't."

"Really, Draco, it's fine. Without Dumbledore, it's not the same anyway. And what they did earlier... what they said... It was uncalled for and I won't accept that kind of talk about my family," he declared firmly.

Draco stared at him a long moment, his brow furrowed and his eyes direct with thought. It was obvious he was thinking, figuring things out. He had always been a planner, always went through things a mile a minute. Sirius had figured that out almost immediately; he was rather proud that his son had such a calculating mind, but then rather disappointed to know what it was being directed at. The demise of such a dark figure was good, but shouldn't be taken on by an eleven year old boy with a grudge. Then again, there was something to be said about Harry Potter in that sense, wasn't there? The world had put it on his shoulders, while Draco had simply picked it up and decided he was going to do it. While Harry hadn't wanted the baggage, Draco had considered it rightfully his.

"Then we tell them that," Draco decided, nodding slowly. "If they stayed around to help you, then they obviously don't want either your or Remus to leave. Which makes sense," he said, his eyes thinning with thought. "They're considering Remus as the new leader and you're an asset. Mildly hotheaded, but a strong member all the same."

"Oh the confidence," Sirius mumbled, but grinned all the same.

"Right, well you and Remus are going to retake your place in the Order, but you're not walking in their asking to be included," he told him, shaking his head. "We'll get them to beg for you to come back."

"You're somewhat scary with that manipulative mind of yours," he commented, lifting a brow.

Draco shrugged, not looking the least bit fazed by the remark. "It's not my fault I was blessed with a cunning thought process while you were cursed with a sense of commiseration."

"You commiserate more than you let on," Sirius replied, reaching back to open the door of his room.

"Or I manipulate more than I let on," he remarked, a smirk forming on his mouth as he passed his father to walk into the hallway.

"As much as you think I don't know you, I do," Sirius told him, staring into his silver eyes. "It's all in there, verging on hidden but just barely noticeable."

Draco stared at him head on, his eyes never blinking and Sirius wondered if perhaps he had said too much. His son laughed then, a light hearted cachinnation. And for one stark moment, he looked like a regular seventeen year old boy, with no life threatening problems or painful nightmares. As quickly as it appeared though, it was hidden. "Certain people see certain things," he replied, cryptically.

Before Sirius could question him, Draco had turned and walked toward the stairs, his stance tall and his shoulders broad. He wasn't about to walk into them looking like a hurt little boy, he had put his mask right back on and he wouldn't let them tear him down. Sirius both hated and loved him when he was like that. He hated that his son had to act as if he wasn't hurt, as if everything rolled off his back. And all the same he was jealous that his son had such willpower that he could get through it. He knew it must be damaging though and as possibly mean it sounded, he sometimes wished Draco would just break down and sob like he had when Dumbledore died. He had been so real then, so completely free with how he truly felt and every emotion that had taken him over.

Sirius followed him downstairs, his face impassive and his head held high. He didn't want the Order thinking he had been upstairs pacing and freaking out, even though he had. They knew he had been worried, they were there while he frantically yelled at them, telling them all they were unbelievably stupid for what they had caused. He had been irrational, yes, but he had reason to be. Draco had a tendency of running from him, even if he usually returned, there was a possibility that one day he wouldn't.

The whole of the Order had gathered back in the den, all talking quietly, whispering like a group of teenage girls with a bit of gossip. He shook his head at the assembly of talk and wasn't surprised when it hushed quickly. Remus appeared beside him, likely having been hiding out in the kitchen with Tonks. He didn't participate in mindless talk about what could or might happen. He worked on facts and statistics, he had always been the more logical Marauder. In recent days though, he had loosened up, which Sirius accosted to Draco's appearance in their lives.

The three men stood in the doorway, not saying a word, simply staring out at the now squirming group of people before them. Draco had a hostile appearance, his arms crossed and his face frowning out at them as if they had barged into his life unwelcomed, which really, they had. Remus looked as if he was still rather disappointed in those in front of him, and Sirius had a picture in his mind of him waving his finger and tsking the group which almost made him chuckle. While Sirius himself was grimacing, his brow cocked and his hands curled into warning fists at his sides. He was still quite pissed about what had happened earlier, what had been said and how things had been dealt with. The Weasley boys had bad tempers, which would only heighten in their future with Draco. They had a rocky past with the image Draco put forward, which is what he had been going for, but now had to deal with.

Harry stepped forward, apparently unsure about where he should be; with the Order or with those he lived with. He stared at Sirius for a long moment, who was silently asking him to join them by the doorway. He had only been there a day and already Sirius felt as if he had failed him as godfather. Harry had been so incredibly happy to be joining him at Grimmauld place and within the first 24 hours everything had basically blown up on him. Sirius knew about his lifelong dreams of wanting to have a family, he had the same dreams himself, and he wanted him to know that nothing was going to change so drastically that he wouldn't be a part of his family. Harry had always been like a son to him, which obviously caused conflict with his real son, but he wasn't going to turn either away. He just had to figure out how to divide his attention between the two boys as they didn't look like they were going to be joining forces to become close anytime soon.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry crossed to stand beside them, the only place he could go happened to be beside Draco however, which neither of them looked happy about. Draco glanced at him for a moment, his frown slipping but then coming back full force. They shared a look that Sirius couldn't decipher but it disappeared quickly and they turned back to stare out at the Order before them.

Hermione stood up, ever the smart and loyal witch, walking across the room to stand beside Harry, nodding happily with her decision. Ron sighed, apparently annoyed with what he was about to do, but he joined them all the same, purposely avoiding looking at Draco. The Trio had reunited and Sirius had a feeling they'd be around the rest of the summer, which he was pleasantly happy for. Though Ron would certainly need a talking to after what he had said and done.

The rest of the Order looked apprehensive, looking around at each other and wondering what to say. Tonks stepped forward, a smile on her face. "Well," she began, looking around, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I think most of us owe an apology to each other."

Sirius grunted, looking over at Draco and nodding at him.

Rolling his eyes, his son stepped forward, sighing. He turned to the Weasley twins, his jaw clenching for a moment and his expression hardening. Sirius almost regretted sending him out to admit his apologies, but Draco had enough restraint not to do anything now. If they said anything else, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions, and really, Sirius wouldn't bother calling him off a second time. "Sorry for catching you off guard, choking you, and threatening your lives. For a couple of Order members, you should be more alert. Constant vigilance and all that--"

He was cut off by Sirius covering his mouth with his hand, stopping him from saying anything too damaging. He looked back at his father, pointedly telling him he would stop. Sirius nodded, removing his hand and making a motion to Ron.

Draco cocked his brow, obviously not approving of this. Exhaling heavily, he turned to Ron. "Sorry for punching you," he said, simply. Sirius' eyes thinned and he turned to his son, knowing he wasn't a boy of few words. "But if you ever say anything like that about my mother again, I'll tear your head off. And I mean that literally," he continued, his tone low and his expression hauntingly serious.

Remus let out a nervous chuckle, reaching out and plucking his nephew to move him in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders to still him. "Easy killer," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Well, now that Draco has so lovingly apologized," he partly mocked, he looked around the room. "Anybody else?"

Molly stood up, turning a perturbed glare at her twins and then her youngest son. "Well, go on then, say what needs to be said, you three," she told them, meaningfully.

Fred and George Weasley stepped forward, glancing at each other and then nodding. "We're terribly sorry--" one began.

"--For mocking your mother--" the other continued.

"--Questioning your allegiance--"

"--And calling you names--"

Draco cocked his brow, crossing his arms threateningly. "You didn't call me names," he replied, his tone annoyed.

"Well, not while you were here," one of the twins said, grinning.

"--But after you left--"

"--Words were exchanged--"

"--Names were called--"

"--Rhymes were made--"

"Rhymes?" Hermione asked, stepping forward with an amused expression.

"Yes," a twin said, nodding.

Clearing his throat in a showy manner, his brother lifted an arm dramatically. "There once was a boy named Draco--"

"Fred and George Weasley," Molly exclaimed, shaking her head. "This is no time for your games. Apologize and sit back down," she ordered.

"Right," said one, nodding. "Sorry."

"Yes, sorry," the other agreed.

Draco didn't reply, glancing back at his uncle with an expression that apparently Remus understood as he chuckled. Sirius couldn't help but feel a small pang of jealousy. Sometimes, his son got along better with his uncle than him. In some ways, it was natural. After all, at seventeen how many teenagers are terribly close with their parents? Not many. But after so many years, after all the work he was putting into it, Sirius desperately wanted his son to have a close and lasting relationship with him. He supposed it was hard since he hadn't been around for thirteen years, but he couldn't change that. He was trying to make up for it now, didn't that mean something?

More apologies were exchanged. The whole of the Order had sent out their deepest regrets at having jumped the wand on Draco without even letting things be explained. They fully agreed to sit down and listen in depth to how Draco's existence with the Malfoy's had come to be and why he was living with Sirius now. He even went as far as to tell them what had happened with Dumbledore, though Draco left for that, saying he was thirsty. Sirius understood that he didn't want to hear it all over again, and he hated talked about it. After the night he had shown up, Draco answered questions relating to the event, but never openly spoke of how he was feeling about it.

Draco came back in shortly after discussion about Dumbledore had ceased, his loyal house elf Dizzy by his side, her ears flapping nervously and her large eyes looking around at the people in front of her. She appeared to be glued to Draco's leg, her little knobby fingers were curled tightly around his pants. For the most part, he didn't appear fazed by the action, simply patted her head unconsciously, almost as if she were a pet, and then took his place beside Harry and Sirius. He yawned, stifling it with his hand and getting a tug on his pants by his little house elf friend.

"Master Draco is tired, Dizzy will get his bed ready!" she announced, turning and scampering off.

"No, Dizzy," he called out, sighing with defeat. "Bloody thing never lets me do anything," he mumbled mostly to himself.

Hermione came out then, her face flushing and her hands fisting. "You have a house elf?" she asked, her voice loud.

"Not entirely by choice," Draco replied, turning back to her with a lifted brow and crossing his arms at her huffy appearance. "Look Granger, I can't get her to let me make a sandwich on my own, d'you really think I could get her to go and live a life free of labor?" he countered, before she could protest.

Her mouth opened slightly, but she didn't appear to have an answer to that. Simply huffing and muttering under her breath before she took her place beside Harry, shaking her head.

Sirius watched the interaction with mild curiosity. He was rather surprised that his son defended himself instead of making fun of her beliefs on house elf rights. He was defensive by nature, but by what Sirius had heard about his fights with Hermione, he had never spared her feelings on anything. He was expecting Draco to keep up his image by making fun of her or dragging her down, but instead was greeted with a mild form of his real son. Draco didn't say it blatantly, he still kept it quite hidden, but beneath his words was an obvious thought to how she feels about things. It was the first time Sirius had known Draco to say something to keep somebody from taking him on in a verbal spar, besides his interaction with Remus, Tonks, or himself. He still seemed to enjoy saying things to bother Harry, which was to be expected. But Hermione had only been there a short while and she was apparently on his good side. It was terribly intriguing, and he had to stop himself from grinning.

"Careful," Remus warned, shaking his head. "Don't get ahead of yourself old man."

All right, so perhaps he hadn't hid his smile well enough. Wouldn't it be grand though if his son managed to get a girl like the incredibly smart and powerful Hermione Granger? He could see it. They were both terribly intelligent, resourceful, hard working, and believed highly in things. Though Hermione believed more in releasing all things from the binds of being declared as creatures of mediocrity and Draco was focused on killing the current darkest wizard of their world, there was still a chance. The future seemed bright, even if it had only begun to evolve with a very tiny, almost imperceptible gesture on Draco's part.

Suddenly, Dizzy appeared again, clapping her hands together. "Dizzy has prepared Master Draco's room. And Master Sirius'," she continued, looking over at him before turning her ears back. "Dizzy hopes that was all right," she said, hopefully.

"Er, yes, thank you, Dizzy," Sirius said, sighing.

She nodded, looking back at everyone. "Should Dizzy prepare beds for everyone?" she wondered, more of making a point that it was late.

"No, no," Sirius said, shaking his head. "The Order will be on their way soon. I'm sure they're all tired for assisting me in looking for Draco earlier." Clearing his throat, he looked around. "Thank you for that. I know I was... more than a little distraught and moody, but I really appreciate the help."

Molly stepped forward, smiling and nodding. "It was no problem Sirius, no problem at all. We're all just happy that you have your son back, safe and sound," she said, her cheeks flushing with the obvious need to say more. "It's just too bad that we won't be seeing more of either of you... What with how busy the summer will be, and... well..."

"What she's trying to say," Arthur said, stepping forward and resting a hand on his wife's shoulder, "is that she really wishes you would reconsider your resignation from the Order."

Sirius glanced at Draco, seeing the small smirk that appeared but then quickly hid.

"Both you and Remus," Molly said, nodding. "It really wouldn't be the same without the both of you. You're very important to the Order and we can't apologize enough for what happened earlier."

"I'm sure the rest of the Order would agree that we'd really appreciate your coming back," Arthur said, nodding. "We need some work on manners," he said, glancing at his twins sons, "but we're willing to work on that." There was a collection of agreeing from behind him, the whole of the Order nodding their heads and staring at him with hardly concealed hope.

Sirius stared at them all a moment. "I'll discuss it with my family," he replied, looking over at his son who was half-smirking. "Remus, what have you decided?" he asked, looking back at him.

Remus looked around him at Draco, apparently reading his expression. "I'll have to talk with my family too," he said, turning back to the Order. "We'll send word with our decision. Until then, I'll be off," he said, yawning. "It's quite late. Dora?" he asked, turning to her, offering his arm for her to take so they could leave.

She smiled sweetly, an expression of gratitude on her face. Sirius could only think that she had been asking him to admit their relationship to the rest of the Order and he had finally come through with it. He glanced over at Draco to see him smiling, a real smile, one that looked so much like Elly's it almost hurt. He looked over at his father, before he realized what he was doing and then suddenly let the smile drop from his face, replacing it with an indifferent expression.

They walked to the fireplace, bid goodbye to the rest of the Order and flooed to Remus' flat. After that, the rest of the group in the den looked uncomfortable. It was obvious that most of them wanted to push the subject of Remus and Sirius coming back to join them, but they kept their mouths shut. They slowly began to break up, stating that they had best go home and walked to the fireplace.

A little over a half hour later, Sirius found himself standing with four teenagers and an eager house elf. "Well," he said, looking around at them. "Tonight has been... eventful, but it's time for bed, you four," he told them, motioning to the stairs. He ushered them all out of the den, and before he could think to flick his wand sending it into darkness, Dizzy hurried forward to do it for him. Sighing, he shook his head at her and followed his son, who had hung back a little, upstairs. Ron, Hermione, and Harry all seemed to walk together to the rooms at the end of the hall, hushed whispers between the three of them.

"Plotting my demise, I suspect," Draco mumbled to him, a hint of kidding to his voice, though it sounded bitter.

"Mm, no, I believe they're planning a party for you," he said, nodding. "Yes, a 'Welcome to the Trio' party. Of course, then it'd be a... All I can think of is foursome, and that's just--"

"Foul," Draco said, frowning. "And I really don't want to be a part of their Trio," he added, looking disgusted. "Can you imagine?" he asked, shuddering.

"Well it can't be that bad," Sirius said, shaking his head. "After all, the look happy. Being in a close knit group is... What's the word?" he wondered, looking up as they reached Draco's door. "It's safe. You have people to depend on and to confide in. You're no longer a loaner, or left alone, you have people to care about you."

Draco stared at him, an unreadable expression on his face, though his eyes showed he was thinking it through. Finally, he sighed, "Well, _they_ are the last group of people I think I'll be getting close to anytime soon," he replied, turning his hand on the handle. "Ha... Potter, Weasley, and I... that's just laughable." He chuckled to himself, walking through the door and shaking his head.

Sirius stared at the closed door a moment, noting that his son hadn't said anything about Hermione. He wondered if it was simply because he didn't know her as well, given that she had always just been the 'mudblood' friend of Potter to his knowledge. While Weasley was a long time player in the Wizarding world, his family having been very well known, and Harry was known by everyone for his past. Or perhaps those little thoughts Sirius had of his son perhaps liking Hermione were true; even if it were only in a platonic way. He'd have to keep an eye on them, see just what was simmering under the surface.

Walking to his room, he changed into his new pajamas, happy that they were incredibly comfortable, and climbed beneath the covers. He glanced once at the wall, knowing Draco would put up his silencing wards and briefly hoping that this time they would hold up. Sometimes, when his screaming got to be too much, they simply broke through the charms placed on the room and echoed through the house with such ferocity they scared Sirius awake and out of bed. He couldn't do anything to help Draco with his nightmares; he knew his son had tried dreamless draughts and various other methods but nothing worked. All he could do was put the wards back up and hope his son felt better in a little while. He closed his eyes, drifting off into sleep and sighing with relief at having both his son and his godson under the same roof. It felt rather comforting to know that they were both out of harms way and safely slumbering just down the hall.

It was nearly nine in the morning when he heard Draco's cries of pain, they weren't as loud as before, but instead more of agonized whimpering. He stumbled out of bed, knowing that the house would likely still be asleep having only gone to bed a few hours before, and rubbing his eyes made his way down the hall towards Draco's room. He could hear it more clearly, which threw him off since the door was always closed. He got his answer to that when he found the Golden Trio standing at his door, staring into his room with expressions of sympathy, shock, and curiosity.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a little too gruffly.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron jumped back, their faces wide with apology while they struggled to explain themselves.

"If he found you here, d'you have any idea what would happen?" Sirius asked, his voice getting louder.

"W... What's wrong with him?" Hermione managed to ask, glancing back.

"Nightmares," he reminded, his voice lower. "He doesn't know you know, and I doubt he wants you to. He has charms up to keep the sounds from getting out, but they can't always withstand his ... His pain," he said, quietly.

"Is he physically hurting?" she wondered, taking another step toward the door and tipping her head.

"I don't know," Sirius admitted, stepping closer and seeming to forget that he should be angry with them for their lack of understanding on the bounds of privacy. "He won't tell me."

"He sounds like it hurts him physically," she said, her voice low as a whisper. "Like it's tearing him from the inside out."

"I imagine it probably is," Sirius agreed. In a moment of clarity however, he reached out and closed the door swiftly, waving his wand around to replace the silencing charm and turning back to the three teenagers. "You won't tell him you heard, and you won't come back here when you hear the noise, understand? He can usually keep it from getting out and when he doesn't, I replace the charm. If it bothers you and I'm not up, come and get me," he said, stiffly. He turned to stare at Ron for a moment, "It's a _very_ sore subject with him. I'm sure you remember his warning about his mother, this relates to that. You would all do better to forget you heard anything."

They nodded, each looking a little uncomfortable and more than a small bit afraid. Turning, they walked towards their bedrooms, glancing back hesitantly. After they had disappeared behind their doors, Sirius walked into Draco's room, sighing at how distraught his son looked trapped in his mind. He moved around almost frantically, as if he were running from someone or something. His face was twisted in pain and the sheen of sweat had broken out over every visible inch of his body. His hands wrapped around the sheets beneath him, clutching at it for dear life as he writhed and cried out, nearly sobbing in his sleep. Sirius felt the pang in his chest, the need to save him from his painful thoughts. But he could do nothing and it was the worst feeling he had ever been through.

He couldn't let him go on like this, he couldn't simply wait for Draco to open up. He was going to have to start pushing him for more information, for him to share his problems. He knew it would cause more problems, more fights, but it had to be done. He had to prepare himself for what might happen though. Draco had a temper, and he was emotionally unstable, especially when it came to the subjects they were going to have to broach soon. He decided to talk to Remus, to find out how it was his old friend dealt with Draco. Walking out of the room and back to his own, he came to a decision, when he woke up later, he was going to confront Draco on certain things. He gulped, knowing it wouldn't be easy. But it had to be done... it had to.

* * *

**A/N** _Hey! I'm glad to see everybody is starting to really enjoy this story. The next chapter will be in Harry's POV. It's late and I'm tired, so I'll just leave it with a... Hope you liked this chapter, thanks for reading, please review!_

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	7. 7

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_This chapter was amazing. The emotion, the love, the passion...it all flows together so well it seems so real and amazing. Everything is so seamless, yet you weave in plot and cliffhangers everywhere. You make people want to read on. Not many authors can actually write a chapter good enough to make people want to read on (I'm speaking from personal experience here), and you continously deliver an amazing, rich plot that seems like you spent hours thinking it out and working out all the kinks, but it has a lightness to it that makes it feel like you just wrote it from your heart, and what you're feeling. Every author tries bringing themselves into the story, and that usually culminates in a Mary-Sue. However, you put pieces of yourself and your personality in this story, that makes it seem so light and real! Your writing is absolutely amazing, and I continously look forward to each and every one of your chapters_."- _**PiperPaigePhoebe01**_ of FanFiction net

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter six**: _Hotkat144, Oona Potter, Shaggy37, Tenshisangel, bethygirl94, Pam Briggs, Lily Hermione Potter, **Princess de la Plume, cle be, Emi-Bum, mskiti, **_and_ especially __**annieca**_, **_anie smiles_**, **_niic smiles, PiperPaigePhoebe01_** and _**galloping-goose**._

_**A Family Affair**_

-**7**-

Harry stumbled down the stairs some time near noon, rubbing his face to clear it of sleep. He nearly tripped on the last step, but managed to catch himself just in time. The house was completely silent, so he assumed that everybody was still sleeping. The night before had run long and nobody had gone to bed until the sun had annoyingly risen. Pushing open the swinging dining room door, he walked through stretching his arms above his head. He heard a scuffling of feet which he applied to Dizzy running around, probably cleaning things that were clean to begin with.

Passing through the empty dining room, he walked into the kitchen to find he wasn't the only one awake. Sitting on a counter was Draco, dark marks were beneath his eyes, telling of the night he had, and his shoulders were slumped. He was talking to Dizzy though, rather quietly, but with a whole lot more comfort than he'd shown in the recent time he'd been around people. Harry didn't want to barge in, so he stayed quiet near the dining room entrance. He also thought it wrong to eavesdrop, but he couldn't tell his ears to stop listening.

"Is Master Draco hungry?" Dizzy asked, looking up at him from where she was scrubbing the floor.

Draco hopped down, kneeling beside her and staring down at the floor. "I think when you can see your own reflection, that would be the time to stop cleaning," he told her, ignoring her question. "You don't have to do this all the time, Dizzy. The house is clean, you've made enough food to last us three days, and I really didn't need you to hand me my towel when I got out of the shower this morning," he told her, a mild laugh escaping him.

"Dizzy just wants everything to be perfect for Master Draco in his new home," she told him, nodding as she began scrubbing again.

"Y'know what I really want?" he asked, reaching out to stop her knobby hand from cleaning. "I want you to slow it down and relax a little. Can you do that? Maybe share some responsibility around the house," he suggested.

Harry's brow rose up into his hairline, he was more than a little shocked to hear Draco Mal--, Black he corrected, tell a house elf that he wanted her to _share_ house work. He had assumed the little thing was running herself ragged because it was used to being ordered to do so, by Draco. He even thought that perhaps the small thing had specific orders from Draco to keep cleaning, no matter the look of things. He had heard him mutter about how she never let him do anything, but he just assumed Draco was becoming annoyed that Dizzy was following him everywhere. He never considered that the house elf was doing it on its own, then again, Dobby would be the same way.

Draco must've noticed Dizzy tearing up because his eyes widened and he sighed. "Hey, hey, no need to get upset. I really appreciate all your help, but you don't have to walk two steps behind me with a cloth in one hand and a plate of food in the other."

Reaching out, he turned the little house elf so it was facing him properly. "Look, I don't know why Narcissa suddenly decided you were going to be mine. You've been around the house since I was a baby, but I've only ever seen you out by the guest house." Shrugging, he looked around. "But whatever she had you doing out there, you don't have to do it here. The cleaning doesn't have to be done every second of the day, and you don't have to cook so much. I'm pretty sure not even Weasley could polish off what you've made," he joked, smirking.

"Is Master Draco upset with Dizzy? Did she not clean right? Is Dizzy's cooking bad?" she whimpered, sadly.

"No, Dizzy just does it too much," Draco told her, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "Instead of cleaning up whatever mess we've made, tell us to do it. We shouldn't just leave things around and expect you to pick them up. I got enough of that at Malfoy Manor and I'm really sick of being treated like some kind of holier-than-thou prat.

He sighed, shrugging, "And as for the cooking... well I've always wanted to learn, so how 'bout we take turns; that way you're not always in the kitchen." Leaning back against the counters, he exhaled heavily, rubbing at his face and squinting his eyes as if he had a headache. "How does that sound?"

Dizzy stared at him a long moment, before she nodded. "Is Dizzy to help Master Draco's brother's friends?" she asked, innocently.

Harry expected a huge shout of how he wasn't Draco's brother, but was surprised to see him simply stare at her a long moment. He must've been weighing it out by the look on his face, Harry deduced. "If they want your help and you feel it's all right for you to, then you can help them with what they need. If any of them are beyond lazy, then let them do it themselves. And Granger might try talking to you about becoming a free elf," he told her, shrugging. "If it's what you want, let me know and I'll arrange it," he offered.

"NO!" she exclaimed, shaking her head and vaulting herself at him. "Dizzy must never leave Master Draco. Nobody can make Dizzy go! Dizzy will always be with Master Draco!" she cried, tearfully. "Please, don't send me away. Dizzy needs to be with you."

Harry thought she sounded more scared than loyal in that moment, but he assumed it was simply because house elf's don't know how to live in society without being ordered around. Their entire existence had to do with being told what to do all day long. Dobby was given freedom but the first thing he did was try and get closer to Harry, so he ended up working at Hogwarts. Really, it wasn't all that different from being owned, except for a small amount of money he agreed to be paid.

Draco looked startled by the outburst and simply pat her back to calm her down before slowly extracting her from her grip around his neck. "It's all right, I'm not going to send you away if you don't want to. I was just letting you know that the possibility is out there if you want it," he explained, moving her so she was sitting an arm's length away.

Sniffling, she nodded. "Master Draco is very tired," she told him, changing the subject. "Has you been having those nightmares?"

Draco looked uncomfortable at the mention of his nightly problem, but he cleared his throat and answered honestly. "They've been getting worse."

"Master Draco should get help for his bad dreams," Dizzy told him, nodding. "Dizzy can see that Master Draco is getting sick by them."

"I'm just tired," he replied, gruffly.

"No, Dizzy has noticed that Master Draco's concealment charms can't hide all of his damage," she said, reaching out to touch the marks under his eyes. "Master Draco must read book Dizzy brought him!" she exclaimed, and with a snap of her fingers she had disappeared.

Sighing, Draco pulled himself up off the floor.

Knowing he might be caught eavesdropping, Harry pretended to yawn and walked in the kitchen, doing his best to act as if he hadn't known Draco was there at all. He stopped mid step, hoping he looked startled. The normally hostile boy stared at him for a moment, his eyes thin as if judging whether or not he believed Harry had just woken up. If he knew Harry had been listening, he didn't let it show. Instead, he nodded his head to the fridge. "Diz made breakfast," he told him, walking past him and out of the kitchen.

Harry let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and glanced back to see Draco step through the swinging dining room door. Walking into the main kitchen, Harry pulled open the fridge door to find it packed with a huge assortment of food. Harry decided the appliance had to have been enlarged on the inside, because there was no way so much food could fit into such a small area. Pulling out a plate of scrambled eggs and then the bowl that held bacon and sausages, he served himself up a heaping meal and cleaned up the small mess left behind. Using his wand to heat the food, he walked to the dining room already shoveling it into his hungry mouth.

He thought back to what Dizzy was saying to Draco and wondered if his nightmares really were making him sick. He certainly hadn't looked good when Harry had seen him, and if Dizzy was telling the truth, then a concealing charm had taken away some of it, so he looked even worse. His skin had gone back to the pale appearance he had when he was a Malfoy, bringing out the dark circles around his eyes even more. They were reddish purple against his skin, causing him to look terribly ill. And now that he thought about it, Draco had sounded rather weak, but Harry had thought it was just because he was tired, that he had just woken up or something. Plus, Draco had been knocked clean over by Dizzy, which seemed unrealistic, given that he was a fairly strong looking bloke. Something was certainly strange about what was happening, and being his curious self, Harry decided he was going to figure it out.

Halfway through his meal, Sirius walked through the door, looked disheveled and tired. He sighed, plopping down at the table and resting his forehead against it. "How was your sleep?" he mumbled.

"Good," Harry replied, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. "After... the incident... I fell right back asleep, without interruption."

Sirius nodded, looking a little more awake. "Yes, that," he said, rubbing his face with his palm. "I'm sorry if I came off snappish, it was just... You have nightmares, don't you Harry?" he asked, looking up at him as he fiddled uncomfortably with his fingers.

Harry shifted in his seat uneasily, but nodded that he did. "Yeah, with Voldemort in them," he confided.

"And are they painful?" he asked, looking up at him.

Harry nodded, his hand moving to his scar unconsciously.

"And d'you feel foolish telling people about them?" Sirius queried.

"I don't like to talk about them, no," he said, sighing.

"Draco," Sirius said, exhaling heavily. "He doesn't like to talk about much. There are a lot of subjects that are off limits. His nightmares, Elly, the Malfoy's, Dumbledore, Voldemort," he listed. "They hurt him too much to talk about. And it's not something I can magic out of him either. But we're going to work on it," he said, vowing more to himself than speaking to Harry. "I can't let him keep going like this. He's... He doesn't look well, does he?" he asked, looking up at Harry with sorrowful eyes.

Harry shook his head, wondering if maybe he should tell Sirius about what he had heard Draco and Dizzy talking about earlier. He got the feeling he shouldn't though, and didn't want to say anything that might make things worse. The last thing he needed was Draco on his back about issues he hadn't dealt with yet. He didn't think he'd ever hide anything for the betterment of Draco Malfoy, but then again he was really Draco Black now. Did a name change make a difference? He hadn't seen much of one yet.

"Yes, whatever he's been dreaming of, it's starting to become a problem. He's haunted," Sirius told him, quietly. "Haunted every moment of his life. It's my fault," he said, nodding.

Harry didn't know what to say to reassure him, didn't know how to tell him that it wasn't, it couldn't be. How could Sirius be the reason Draco was plagued with nightmares? He didn't kill Elly. He didn't tell her to go to Lucius Malfoy and beg for Sirius' release. He had simply been caught up in a huge scandalous plot that Pettigrew had put together. If it was anyone's fault, it was Wormtail's. He had orchestrated the whole thing to make it look as if Sirius had caused Harry's parents deaths and then his own faked murder. Yes, it was Pettigrew that had caused it all, not Sirius. Harry opened his mouth to tell him that as best he could, but found his godfather shaking his head.

"It's all right, Harry, I accepted my shortcomings recently," he told him, his face falling. "Enough of this though," he said, leaning back and trying to look less unhappy. "Tell me, what would you like to do this summer?" he asked, tipping his head to one side in question. "Merlin knows we've had enough drama to last us a lifetime, it's time we get out there and do something fun."

"But wouldn't it be risky for both you and Draco to go out in public?" he asked, finding it still rather odd to say Draco's first name. He wondered if he should call him _Black_ but then thought better of it. Besides, Sirius would likely be happily satisfied if Harry reached out even a little bit. And using Draco's first name was a rather large gesture, he thought.

"We'll use concealing charms," he said, shrugging it off. "'Course we can't be going out all the time. You're a target too, y'know. But we can't coop ourselves up in the house all day," he said, shaking his head. "'Sides, I'm sure you and your friends would get bored faster than a Hippogriff chasing a ferret 'round here. No, I think it'd be smart to get out and enjoy the summer. 'Specially before Mooney starts pullin' his pranks again," he said, scratching his chin as he pondered deep in thought.

"What'd you and Draco do here before I came?" he asked, forking more of his scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Sirius grinned, his eyes turning off with a wistful expression. "Remodeled the house mostly," he said, nodding. "It was interesting. Remus came by on occasion, always had an idea about what colour things should be. Draco suggested silver and green for most rooms, but I think he was just trying to get on my nerves," he said, frowning. "Slytherin colours," he said distastefully. "'Course then Remus would say he believed burgundy and gold would be better and that'd start a mild scuffle. Before I knew it, the entire living room was covered with an array of green, red, gold, and silver; polka dots, stripes, and globs of it everywhere," he said, amused.

Harry laughed, grinning happily as he thought it over. He couldn't help but notice that Sirius indeed looked very happy when he thought back on the good times he'd shared with his son. It was almost as if those moments were few and far between though, as he hardly ever looked as if Draco had left him with anything but a broken heart for anything he did. He supposed he really couldn't blame Draco entirely, but that didn't stop him from feeling as if he should yell at him for his lack of understanding when it came to Sirius. Perhaps he was missing something though; maybe it was just his jealousy speaking.

The swinging dining room door came open full force as Ron came stumbling through, rubbing his face and muttering under his breath. He came to a stop beside Harry, eyeing the food on his plate. "Whas' tha' you got there?" he wondered, licking his lips.

"Lots more in the fridge," Harry told him, moving his arm in front of his plate to shield it from his best mate's bottomless appetite. As his ginger haired friend walked off to the kitchen, Harry turned around in his seat. "Has Hermione woken up, d'you know? She's usually up long before us."

"Wasn't in 'er room when I dropped in this mornin'," Ron replied, sounding as if his mouth was already full as he bent over, looking through the shelves of food. "Probably off readin' a book somewheres," he said, shrugging. He came up from the fridge holding numerous plates in his arms and looking as if Christmas had just come early.

Sirius stood up then, making his way toward the kitchen. "Do try and leave some for the rest of there, Ron. Your bound to burst if you keep eatin' like that. Merlin knows I don't an irate Molly Weasley screaming my head of for letting her son eat himself to death," he commented, shaking his head but grinning. "I s'pose we could work it all off in a came of Quidditch though, huh?"

Harry's interest piqued and he turned back to his godfather with a grin as he brought his plate into the kitchen. "Quidditch?" he asked, excitedly.

"Mm, Draco and I set up a fantastic makeshift area in the back there. We enlarged the yard so we could fit everything. It's really quite brilliant," he said, nodding.

Harry put his plate down in the sink and made quick work of cleaning it. "When can we go out?" he asked, laughing at Ron's excited appearance as he stuffed his face with food.

"Soon as everybody's dressed and ready to go," he told them. "I doubt Hermione'll like to play, but I'm sure there are a few good reads in the study she might like."

"She's probably there now," Harry said, turning to walk out and find her. "How are we going to play with just the four of us?" he wondered, walking backwards.

"Remus and Tonks usually join us," Sirius said, leaning back against the counter and polishing an apple on his shirt. "And Draco invited his friend Blaise along that one time, who in turn brought his sister Bethany. So we had a team of three against three. One keeper, one seeker, and one beater," he said, shrugging.

"All right," Harry said, nodding. "Well, I guess if Tonks and Remus come along then we'll have ourselves a game."

"Blaise?" Ron asked, his mouth half full. "Blaise Zabini?" he wondered.

Sirius stared at him a moment, tipping his head as he thought back. "Yeah, sounds about right. Why?"

"So he knows that Draco is your son?" he wondered, glancing at Harry. "D'you really think tha's safe? He's a Slytherin, and not one who believes much in Harry here," he said, jutting his thumb out at him.

"Draco trusts him," Sirius said, simply. "One thing you'll learn about Draco is that he doesn't trust easily. People have to earn it, have to show him something to command that certitude. So Blaise must've done or said something that made Draco believe in him. All I know is that my son has a very low tolerance for lying and misinformation. If he doesn't trust you, he has reason not to. If Blaise managed to earn that from him, then I have no reason to doubt he's worthy of it."

Harry had no response, so he instead decided to go looking for Hermione. He felt good with a full stomach and the knowledge that he'd be playing Quidditch soon. He looked around the den first, thinking she might be laid out on the couch, book in hands, but found it empty. He wandered up to her room, but found it void of her too, just like Ron had said it was. Then he made his way down to the study, thinking it was probably where Draco was, so he hadn't bothered. He assumed Hermione would avoid being where the former Malfoy was at all costs. As he approached the door, he heard voices inside that caused him to stop. Once again, he found himself eavesdropping.

"What's that book?" Hermione could be heard asking.

"It's called, 'How to Read in Peace and Quiet Without Being Asked A Question Every Five Seconds," Draco replied, sounding miffed.

"Sorry," she hugged, grumbling to herself. "I was just curious as to why that poor house elf was nearly crushing herself with the weight of it, all to hand it to you," she retorted.

"That poor house elf has a name," he replied, sounding rather mocking. "And it's Dizzy."

"Right, well _Dizzy_ was nearly smooshed like pancake under that huge thing."

"Well, that's not my fault, is it?" Draco said. Harry had the distinct image of Draco rolling his eyes at her then. "She's a little too eager for her own good. Had I known the book weighed a done, perhaps I would've helped her with it."

"Perhaps," Hermione said, not entirely sure.

Sighing, Draco made an annoyed noise. "Are you going to be bothering me much longer? It's terribly hard to read with you talking all the time?"

"Well, if you'd just tell me the title of the book, my curiosity would be fed and I'd leave you alone," she told him, in a rush and sounding exasperated.

"Did you ever think that perhaps I didn't tell you the title because I didn't want you to know it," he asked. A loud clap was heard and Harry decided that Draco had closed the book. "Curiosity killed the cat, Granger," he muttered.

"Well," she drew out, sounding thoroughly annoyed. "You don't have to be so snappy, you know."

"I've had a bad night," he retorted heatedly. "Can we just leave it at that?"

It was silent for a moment and Harry was sure that his bushy haired friend was likely keeping quiet out of understanding to Sirius. He had warned them to act as if they hadn't seen anything and while Harry hadn't made any kind of motion as if he knew something he shouldn't, he wondered if Hermione would have such restraint. She tended to be a problem fixer; always trying to sort things out and help people. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't do anything foolish in that moment.

A throat was cleared, and then Hermione spoke. "D'you need to talk about it?" she wondered.

Draco sighed, apparently upset that the short break of silence had been disturbed. "After asking you to be quiet, does it appear as if I was to talk?"

"Well," she said, sighing. "Sometimes people say the opposite of what they mean. So when they say they don't want to talk, what they really mean is that they want someone to ask them to talk. Like reverse psychology."

"Are you my psychologist now, Granger?" he asked, sounding mildly amused. "D'you want to know my deepest, darkest secrets? Are you interested in hearing whether I cry myself to sleep, or if my inner demons are eating away at me? Would Granger like to know all that?" he asked, scathingly. "Does she really want to know what goes on in my head? Down to the smallest thought. From what I think of dear ol' dad to Lucius Malfoy; from nearly killing Dumbledore to having a vendetta against Voldemort." He stopped then, letting it all sink in. "Huh, Granger?" he asked, breaking the quiet. "Are you ready for that kind of information?"

"I-- If you r-really need to talk about it," she managed, quietly. "Then yes, yes I'll listen."

He laughed, a scathing, mean cachinnation. "You wouldn't know what to do with the information I could give you," he told her. "If you knew half of my thoughts, you'd be tearing your eyes out and crying yourself to sleep for the rest of your life," he said, sounding almost mournful. "You'd be better of just to pretend I don't exist," he told her, sounding almost sincere and warning. As if he really did want her to leave him be simply to save herself.

There were sharp footsteps then and Harry hurried to get away from the study. He found himself in the den, sitting almost awkwardly on the sofa and leaning back against the comfortable arm of it. Draco walked in a moment later, apparently not seeing him as he sat down on the couch with his book and cradled his head with his hand, his elbow sitting on the end table beside the couch. He glanced up momentarily, sighing with annoyance. "You're not going to talk my bloody ear off too, are you?" he asked, leafing through the pages of his book.

Harry shook his head, acting as if he had no idea what Draco was talking about, like he hadn't just listened in on a conversation between he and Hermione. He eyed the tome in Draco's hands, trying to find the title on it but failing. Draco had it covered by his other hand and Harry had to wonder if it was because he knew he'd be looking for it or just by chance. He looked up to see Draco watching him, which gave him his answer to his previous question. "How's your break going then, Potter?" he asked, his brow lifting as he looked down to his book.

"Swimmingly," he replied, sitting up a little more and trying to get comfortable.

"Ah yes, what with the shopping trip disaster, having a god-brother sprung on you, and then spending most of your night listening to everybody grumble about my attack on your friends, it's like a regular circus 'ere, isn't it?" he asked, smirking. "Are you starting to regret it yet?" he wondered. "Moving here, I mean."

"No," Harry replied, unsure if he was or not. "Even with the problems here, it's better than the Dursley's," he admitted, finding he was telling the truth. "Why? D'you regret that I'm here?" he asked. However, the moment he did, he wanted to take it back. He already knew that Draco didn't like his being there. Perhaps he was as jealous of Harry as Harry was of him.

Draco stared at him a long moment, his brow lifted and the book laying unused on his chest, his hand still covered the title though. "Sirius is happy you're here," he said, and it appeared to have more meaning to him than what his feelings were toward Harry being there.

"Is he?" he queried, unable to hide the doubt. He often felt like he was stepping on family moments. As if perhaps he wasn't wanted there, and Sirius was just taking pity on him during a time where his own life was already consumed with a son. He didn't want to put those fears out there, likely because he was scared that they would be revealed as true.

"Of course," Draco said, turning his eyes away. "Why wouldn't he be? After all, your his god-son. He's been wanting to take you away from that family of yours for years." Sighing, Draco shrugged. "He bothered me for weeks when he knew you'd be turning seventeen. Every morning, whenever there was a lull in conversation, or if he simply felt it should be brought up; he just had to remind me that you were coming," he muttered, shaking his head. "I think e may have been trying to warm me, to tell me that I needed to cut back on the Malfoyesque behavior." Turning, he smirked at Harry, his brow cocked. "Well, Potter, how am I doing in way of being less of a git to you?"

Harry snorted, not entirely sure how to answer the question. It was true he hadn't insulted him, much. He was more scathing in the expressions he made now rather than his words. He had always been rather witty with his words, and that hadn't changed recently, but now he was leaving personal insult out. It was refreshing in one way, not having to be on guard around him, just waiting for the next rude remark. However, it was also unnerving, since he really didn't know who Draco was. Was he at all like the dark, rude person he portrayed? Or was he like this? A mild form of Draco Malfoy, one without the snide comments about families and stature in the world? Or was he that desperate, hurt boy Harry had seen crying out in his sleep, broken and terrified of what he was dreaming?

"All right, I guess," he mumbled, shifting in his seat uneasily. "Can I ask you something?" he wondered, looking at him with as much confidence he could muster.

"As long as its not the tile of my book," Draco replied, shrugging. "Have at it..." he said, waving his arms with a fake regal flourish.

"About Voldemort," he began, noting the change in Draco's appearance. "I mean, at eleven, what possibly made you think to do it?"

"It wasn't a matter of thinking it up randomly," he replied, surprising Harry with his forthcoming answer. "Tell me, Potter, when you found our your parents had been murdered, what was your first thought?"

"I... Well... I..." He stumbled over his words, searching his mind and knowing he was only going to come up with a dark answer. "I wanted to know who it was..."

"Why?" Draco asked, moving so he his legs were sitting on the floor and the book fell to his lap, cover hidden. "What did you want to do with the information?" he wondered, pointedly.

"I-- I wanted to kill him," he replied, nodding. "I wanted him to suffer the same fate, to feel the same pain. If he could kill them, then he didn't deserve to live,"he told him. He shocked himself with the ferocity behind his words. He hadn't realized just how powerfully he had felt in those first moments. But really, as he thought it through, it had been a terrible thing to learn. All that time he had believed his parents had perished in a car accident, only to find that they had suffered a fate much worse. And Voldemort didn't deserve pity or understanding. He wasn't worthy of living after what he had done.

Perhaps it had been an empty thought though, thinking that he could kill Voldemort then. The thoughts of a person who was angry, upset, and wanted revenge. But hadn't Draco felt the same way when he realized his mum was killed and his father was in prison? And he had done something; he had worked on that vengeance until it became his main goal in life.

"It's a normal reaction," Draco told him, nodding. "You might feel a little less human when you realize what you wanted to do, but it's something that should be expected. I mean really, how many people would instead choose to just forgive someone for murdering their parents? It's not done. Y'know why? Because if we simply forgave a bastard for doing that, he'd continue doing it. It's not just about us, though it feels that way at first. Part of us knows though, somewhere inside we know that if don't stop him, he'll just keep killing."

Shaking his head, he frowned darkly. "Nobody talks about it though. And nobody is going to understand when you try to explain it to 'em. The only one who'll know how ya feel or what your thinking is someone who's been through the same thing," he said, nodding. "They can be friends, family, mentors, it doesn't matter. They'll never fully understand the vengeance you feel, only that your hurting. They'll want to cradle you, to hold you until that hurt stops, but just because you're not crying anymore, doesn't mean that hate you have for the killer has died away," he spoke almost in a vicious whisper; it didn't even appear as if he were really talking to Harry anymore. This was the longest conversation they'd really had, one on one, that wasn't laced with cruel insults and hurtful remarks about Harry's friends or family.

"You've never told anyone what you were planning?" Harry wondered. "Even Dumbledore?"

"You know how Dumbledore is..." Clearing his throat, he looked away, his face taking on a haunted expression. "Old codger knows everything," he said, his voice mildly choked. He was quiet for a moment, running a hand over his jaw and shaking his head. "In any case, I kept my plans to myself. The most I did was hint; just to see what people take of things. I remember when mentioned it to you once," he said, a half-smirk forming on his face.

"You did?" Harry asked, searching his mind and coming up blank.

"I told you back in third year I'd get revenge," Draco reminded him, a brow cocked as he leaned back in his seat. "You remember, don't you? Shortly after my da--" He cleared his throat, "Right after Sirius escaped Azkaban. I said, if it were me, I'd want revenge. That I'd hunt him down myself. 'Course it sounded like I was telling you to hunt down Sirius for killing your parents, but I meant something else entirely. It's all about how you words things, Potter. You have to say things so people will think the way you want them to."

"Manipulative, aren't you Draco?" Harry asked, sighing.

"Sometimes you have to be, Potter. This world isn't meant for the lot of us to be nice and sugary sweet. If it were, there wouldn't be a Dark Lord out to kill the majority of us, would there?" Shaking his head, he didn't wait for Harry to reply. "No. If things were good in this world, you'd still have your parents, and I'd have had mine. But they aren't. It's best you remember that. Hoping people learn to be nice isn't going to get you through the war."

"So I should be as dark and evil as Voldemort is just to defeat him?" he asked, becoming defensive. While he saw some truth in what Draco said, he didn't want to give up on the good in people. He wanted to believe that not everybody was selfish or thought only of themselves. "I don't know what your thinking is Draco, but I'm not going to stoop to that level. Voldemort is an insane, evil bastard, who kills for his own betterment. I'm not like him, and you shouldn't want to be."

Harry felt himself seething inside. Voldemort was a killer, a murderer who believed in nothing but the dark avenue he could turn people down. He cared nothing for the lives of people and only for his own selfish desires. One of Harry's biggest fears was that he was somehow like Voldemort. There were serious things that linked them and he often worried that perhaps that connection would take him over. His parseltongue abilities, the nightmares, his scar. Harry wanted to believe that the world wasn't all bad; that yes, Voldemort was alive and causing destruction, but he wouldn't be around forever. Harry would rise up to his destiny and destroy him, hopefully, and then they'd be left with a relatively good world. Wouldn't they?

"I never said I wanted to be, Potter," Draco replied quietly, his eyes far off. "But situations change people. Y'think you'd always be this bent on stopping Voldemort if he hadn't killed your parents when you were a baby? No," he drawled, sighing. "Some things just change people. We're alike in that respect. Both had our mum's die in front of us. The only difference is I've accepted what happened to me and know what I want to do about it. All you know is that you're the only one who can really kill Voldemort. D'you think if you had a choice, you still would?"

He thought it over. His words made sense. He had been basically taken to the Wizarding world and told that he was known to be the Boy-Who-Lived. He was famous before he had even known what for. Was that what had caused his intentions to live up to being the Harry Potter? Or was it something deeper, some sense of chivalry that came with being the son of James and Lily Potter?

"I-- I don't know," Harry said, quietly. "I think so though. I think some of us are just born to be a certain way. My parents were big supporters of Dumbledore, and Voldemort's defeat. I think growing up with them would've encouraged me to be how I am." He frowned, shrugging. "I'd be happier though."

"Happiness is hard to come by," he agreed, nodding. "There are those who give it to you freely and those who take it from you greedily. As soon as you think you have it, it can be ripped right out from beneath you. It's best not to care too much, I say." He appeared indifferent, but there was something there that Harry didn't know him well enough to read just yet.

"What's the point if you don't care?" Harry asked, sitting forward. "And I don't believe that for a minute, Draco. You care; you're just really good at hiding it," he added, his thoughts jumping to the forefront of his mind.

"Do I, Potter?" he asked, leaning forward with a smirk. "Are you sure?" he queried, his brow lifting.

Harry shifted in his seat, thinking the question over. "Yeah, yeah I am. I've seen you with Sirius, I've heard you 'round the house when you don't think anybody's listening. You care. You've just gotten terribly good at hiding it."

"Eavesdropping, Potter," he chastised, tsking. "Would've thought you gave that up years ago. Did you learn anything useful while you hung 'round the kitchen? Bet it was a stimulating conversation I had with Dizzy. You were just lapping it up, eh Potter?" he mocked.

"It was interesting enough," Harry said defiantly. "After all, it's not every day that you would admit to a house elf that your nightmares are getting worse? Is it?" he challenged, but gulped a moment later when he realized perhaps he had let his mouth run off without thinking.

"Trying to be clever, I see," he said, his face losing its calm exterior. "Y'think you're figuring things out?" he continued, shaking his head. "Y'don't have the first clue about me. You're just a curious little boy caught in a much bigger plan. The sooner you figure that out, the better." Standing, he glared down at Harry with a gaze as cold as ice, before strolling out of the room with a confidence Harry wished he had.

The moment he was gone however, Harry realized the book Draco had been so carefully concealing was lying on the couch, calling for him to read the title of it. He waited only a minute on the couch, his fingers digging into the sofa, before he darted across the room. "_Curiosity killed the cat,_" he heard Draco's voice in his mind, a warning that he didn't heed. Turning it over slowly, he peeked his eyes out to read the title that lay boldly printed in gold script.

"**_The Terror of Dreams and the Remedies that will Save Your Life_**," it read, almost eerie in its scrawl. So it was true then, whatever was happening in Draco's nightmares was actually making him physically sick. Why now though? Prolonged exposure to them possibly? And they were getting worse, what did that mean? Could it actually be affecting his health so much so that it could lead to death? But that seemed rather extreme; nightmares that caused death.

"_He sounds like it hurts him physically... Like it's tearing him from the inside out_." Hermione's earlier words about Draco's appearance while he had been under the influence of his nightmare, rung in Harry's mind. Harry felt the distinct need to figure out exactly what it was that Draco was dreaming about. What kinds of things lurked in his mind; what dark dreams occurred to make him so desperately distraught?

Before he could think on it too much he heard a raucous in the dining room. Walking across the hall, he pushed open the door only to see Sirius and Draco head to head, both looking extremely pissed. He worried that perhaps Draco had gone to his father to talk about the conversation he'd had earlier. However, his fears were laid to rest a moment later, when they began shouting. Ron was hiding out in the background, a bowl of some food in his hand as he watching with rapt attention.

"Why can't you just leave it alone?" Draco yelled, his face taking on a dark expression.

"Because you're in pain," Sirius shouted back, his tone filled with both sadness and a need for his son to understand. "It hurts to talk, to sleep, to think; admit it. If you would just get some of it out, maybe you wouldn't be so... so..." he trailed off, his eye looking away.

"So what?" Draco asked, his tone sharp, warning. "What am I? Huh?" he yelled, his face draining of colour as he stood raging in front of his father. "What is so horrible about who I am that you have interfere with it? Why can't you just let me be me?" he continued, his voice loud but strained.

"Because," Sirius exclaimed, shaking his head. "Because you're not being you. I've seen _you_, and this is a hidden, chopped up version of it. This is the Draco you bring out when things get rough. The one you hide behind. He's right in between the real you and Draco Malfoy," he told him, his voice lowering in volume but still holding a strong, unwavering edge.

"You know me?" he asked, laughing self deprecatingly. "_You_ know _me,_" he repeated, shaking his head.

"Don't do this," Sirius whispered, suddenly looking incredibly hurt. He reached out, appearing as if he wanted to take it all back. As if he wanted to pretend he hadn't just said what he said, asked what he asked.

But Draco pulled away from him, his expression shielding anything he might be feeling. "If you know me so damn well, try and figure out exactly what I'm thinking right now," he said, darkly.

"Can we please talk about this rationally?" he asked, now pleading. His eyes were sad, his expression sorry, and his posture was terribly telling of the emotional strain he was going through with his son. The struggle he had to go through all the time just to keep up with him and never sway the small boat they were in.

"You said you'd stop bringing her up," Draco said, his voice shaking. "You promised that I wouldn't have to talk about her unless I wanted to. And I don't. I don't want to think about her, I don't want to listen to stories about her. I want you to stop bringing her up around me. I just want to forget her," he said, his tone final. He turned as if to leave, his arms crossing tightly and his jaw clenching. His feet were moving toward the door, but Sirius' reply had him stopping.

"It's kind of hard to forget someone when you have nightmares about them every single time you fall asleep," he responded, his tone even while his face was quivering with the words he had just spoken. Harry knew that nobody was supposed to know about Draco's nightmares. Sirius had never admitted to knowing about them and while Harry had just said something, he had certainly set him off.

Draco's back stiffened, his eyes lifted to stare at Harry for a dark moment that had him almost stumbling backward. He turned slowly, his silver eyes darkening to an ice blue as he stared at his father. Harry couldn't help but notice that while Sirius appeared strong, standing with his shoulders rigid and his head held high, his eyes were betraying just how terribly fearful he was. He knew his son, and it was obvious that Draco was always a hair's breath away from bolting. Sirius looked terrified that he had just made the grave mistake that would leave him without Draco for the rest of his life.

"Nightmares," Draco repeated, his tone shaking with rage. "Tell me, _dad_, what d'you know about my nightmares?" he questioned, looking as if he wanted to tear Sirius' head off for uttering the words.

Harry looked back and forth between Sirius and Draco. He knew that it was wrong for him to stay; that he should give them privacy and leave the room. However, his feet weren't moving and his ears kept listening. His eyes were glued to the scene, it was like watching the peak moment in a movie. He had an odd image in his head of himself holding a bowl of popcorn and watching with wide yes and an open jaw. He stared at his godfather, wondering how Sirius was going to get himself out of the hole he'd dug. Would he let go of the idea of breaking through Draco's hard exterior? Or would he tell him exactly what he knew and possibly push his son away for good? It was going to be terribly exciting.

* * *

**A/N** _Hey everybody! I'm so glad you're all enjoying this story so far. Thank you all for the wonderful review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too. Next one will likely be in Draco's POV. Thank you all for reading, please leave a review._

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	8. 8

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_God, I just want to grab Draco and put him into the biggest hug a person can think of. I really feel for him, these nightmares are terrible he really needs to just talk about them and I think Hermione is just the one to help him. It makes a person sit back and actually evaluate what there own life is all about. The conversation with Harry and Draco was just like that. They both have lost because of Voldemort, and the only way to help each other is to work together. This story is just getting better and better, I just cant wait till the next chapter. _

PS. Here I was so engulfed in the story and the seriousness of it and then you just had to throw in the part about the popcorn eating, I had to stop to giggle. But you seem to do that to me. I get in depth into the story then you throw in a little sideline joke like that. Too funny, at least it helps get the butterflies out of the stomach when you do that." - **_mskiti_** of FanFiction.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter seven**: _Hotkat144, Shaggy37, Pam Briggs, TheSlayerettes, Lily Hermione Potter, Phoenix flame01, bethygirl94, bena24, _**_cle be, Zarroc, Keither Serenity, anie smiles, Liynette, niic smiles, devotedHPfan, Kyuuketsuki - Plot Biotch_ **and_ especially** PiperPaigePhoebe01, mskiti (Melanie, aka Tabi), **_and**_ galloping-goose._**

**Warning:**_ Mild gore in this chapter._

_-_

_**A Family Affair**_

-**8**-

Draco knew this conversation was coming, it had been waiting at the end of his father's tongue for ages. There were moments where he'd see Sirius reaching out blindly with his hand, as if to pull him back to say what he was really thinking. He never quite caught him though and he'd bury those thoughts and words until another time; one that hadn't come until now. They fought, it was a normal occurrence, but Sirius was kind enough to stay away from the subject that burned Draco so. When it was brought up Draco cut it off quickly, and they respected that in the past, but he could see that that wasn't going to happen this time.

The simple word had him on edge; nightmares. They were so much more than that really. They were a tear in his mind, scouring deep into his psyche until they had him screaming for any kind of release. Be it death or otherwise. He felt a rip at his temple, a reminder of the pain he felt whenever they took him. He had to restrain his arm from coming up to cup his now throbbing head. His eyes were blurring and he begged for it to go away. He couldn't talk about them, he couldn't speak about what happened in them. It was too hard, too painful. He couldn't. Inhaling deeply, he pushed away that pain, pretended it didn't exist, and focused on the man who had brought it to him. He glanced at Potter, simply because it just so happened the Boy Who Lived had brought up the same subject earlier and he had to wonder just how much he now knew.

"Nightmares," he repeated, coldly, his jaw clenching as he stared darkly at his father. He ignored the fact that Sirius was almost completely shaking, looking terrified and remorseful already. "Tell me, _dad_, what d'you know about my nightmares?" he questioned, feeling as if he truly wanted to tear his father's head from his shoulders.

Sirius looked as he if he were near stumbling backwards, but he kept himself upright, probably suddenly realizing he was the adult. He should have more power, he shouldn't be cowering from his seventeen year old son. But he was, as he should be in Draco's opinion. It was a blind rage, one where he didn't think straight or act right. He lashed out irrationally, said things he normally kept hidden. And he hated that his father had brought him to this. While he stood tall and vicious on the outside, he was shaking and terrified on the inside.

He could hear Elly's voice in his ear, whispering, soft but deadly, "_Don't keep it in, my little soldier. Tell him... He can save us, sweetheart... Please..._" And Merlin how it hurt that she was pleading, asking him to do this for the both of them. She didn't know, she didn't understand. She thought it was so easy. Well she was dead, she didn't know the pain that he was suffocated with. She whispered a few things in hopes that he could save them, she asked of him something she thought easy. She didn't know the blind, searing pain that went along with uttering anything to do with those nightmares. He hated her for that, and yet his love for her begged that he spill them all to his father right then and there.

She was always there, even when he was awake. She practically haunted him, except that there was no visible ghost. But he could remember her words when he woke from the terror he went through every night. He could hear her telling him what he needed to do. However, some part of his damaged mind told him never to trust anything whispered in his ear. It might not be his mum; in fact, the nightmares might not really be her. It could be something else, something darker. For all he knew it was Voldemort or someone similar deep down in his head, willing him to do things he shouldn't. And he couldn't share those thoughts, those dark dreams that plagued him. It was hard enough to acknowledge them while he lived through them, he couldn't talk about them.

Sirius sputtered, something along the lines of, "I've heard you screaming."

Draco felt his blood boiling and he knew he should be reigning in this anger but it was going berserk on him and he didn't have the sense of mind to pull away. "What d'you want to know?" he yelled, taking a step further. "D'you want to know what they are? What I see?" he asked, his voice loud and cold. "D'you want to know what she looks like or how she cries out in agony?" He was standing nearly face to face with him now, his eyes hard and filled with fury. He could see his father wincing, a look of sheer agony crossing his face. "D'you wanna save me, dad?" he screamed harshly. And he hated the fact that his eyes were filling; tears were weakness and Draco could not smother that defect. It was right there in front of him. Family. Love. Weakness.

"Yes," Sirius yelled, his hands lifting to grasp Draco's shoulders, holding him firmly in place. "I want to save you. I've always wanted to save you," he shouted, staring searchingly at his son. "You yell and you scream, you run and you flee, but you always come back, Draco," he told him, his hands squeezing Draco's shoulders as if to stop him from rearing back. "And I know you don't want to talk about her, I know you hate me for bringing her up, but I'm not going to stop," he said, seriously. "I'm going to bring her up every moment I can and I'm going to keep digging into you until you finally break," he said, thickly, tears rimming his own eyes.

He wanted to hit him, he wanted to beat him down until he promised never to utter her name. And all the same, he wanted to hug him and thank him for not letting it go. There was something dark in his mind though, something that told him that he couldn't let this get to him. He couldn't open up, he couldn't let all of it out like opening a floodgate. There were things he'd seen, things he knew, and he simply couldn't let those things out. They hurt him, tore at him at every moment. He could feel it in his head, begging to be released.

He could feel a clawing behind his eyes and hear her shrill scream in his ears. He wanted to scratch out his eyes then, to rip off his own ears and tell his father to just kill him. Just end it all, he couldn't take it anymore. There was no saving, just a pitying wand and a two worded blessing. But he couldn't do that, and he would never beg for death. He would meet it head on while he watched Voldemort suffer and die for what he'd done to him; to everyone he cared about. And when he was done with him, he'd torture Lucius with the _Cruciatus_ curse until his organs burst inside of him, and then he'd walk away, cry at his father's feet, and die in a heap of laughing, happy, agony.

"Why?" Draco croaked, pulling back but finding a stiff hold on him that wasn't going to let go anytime soon. "Why can't you let this go?" he asked, his breath speeding up until he was seething through his teeth, his anger coursing through him again. His hands wrapped around Sirius' shoulders until he was slamming him against the wall. "Why can't you fucking let me do this on my own?" he bellowed, his voice croaky, just barely holding from breaking altogether. "I lasted seventeen years so far, why can't I keep going on my own?" he shouted, hoarsely.

"You shouldn't have had to go that long in the first place," Sirius roared, shaking Draco's shoulders. "I wasn't there, but if I were, I wouldn't have let it go on," he told him, loudly.

That's when it all snapped; his last vestige of sane resistance. "That's right," Draco told him, pulling him back just to throw him back into the wall. "YOU WEREN'T THERE!" he screamed, sucking in air quickly and feeling a shake in his shoulders. "I waited," he yelled, tears slipping from his eyes furiously. "I waited and you never came!"

"I didn't know," Sirius told him, panting as he tried not to openly cry. "I tried to get to you, Draco. I tried to--"

"NO!" Draco interrupted loudly, shaking his head. "You didn't try. You waited all of fourth year when you got out and you didn't try! You didn't find me, you were too absorbed in bloody well killing Wormtail," he shouted, his voice breaking on him. "You had time for him but you couldn't find me. Because I was raised by Lucius and you assumed-- Don't lie," he warned when Sirius opened his mouth to reply. "You thought I was just like him. Admit it, you needed Narcissa to tell you different. And I bet you believed Potter and everything he said because you never took the chance to meet me." His shoulders were beginning to hurt with their quaking while his breath came out in shaky gasps, his eyes pierced his father's morose form. "You had twelve years to escape but the only thing that fueled you enough to finally do it was vengeance," he spat, shaking his head. "And you wonder why I have such a thirst for it," he breathed, more to himself.

Sirius shook his head, his eyes dark with remorse and his shoulders sagging with reality. "I was told you were safe! That Narcissa was taking good care of you. I thought--" he managed to get out, in some form of explanation.

"You shouldn't have listened," Draco cut him off, loudly. "You should've known. You should've come for me, but you didn't. You don't know what it was like," he said, his voice quieting, and he hated that it sounded almost pleading.

He pulled back, his mind coming in full force and reminding him that he was saying too much, he was revealing himself. His hands fell from his father and buried themselves in his hair, one running over his face, wiping away any remnants of tears. He stumbled back, his eyes looking around for his dignity while his throat swallowed the truth that begged to be released.

"Draco," Sirius called, his voice sounded hollow, tunneled.

Closing his eyes, Draco shook his head, backing away quickly, turning to the door. Regret washed through him so quickly, he was swamped. He had said far too much, he should've shut up. He had almost let too many things out. About Lucius, about his life when he was younger. That was dangerous. He couldn't let that get out. That was dark, unforgiving. That was the part of Draco that haunted him while he was awake. When it wasn't Elly, it was his loss of innocence. His loss of being a child at one time. He didn't want to admit that, he didn't want to believe it. _One day_, he reminded himself, _one day he'd go to the fair_.

His chest was heaving, his breathing erratic, and his throat burned with all of his yelling. Merlin, the anger he just had in possession. There were so many things that he had let out, things not even he had realized hurt him. The lack of Sirius in his life for so long, then the pain of knowing he came in second to getting revenge on Wormtail. Three years he waited, since he found out at eleven, but nobody came for him. He wasn't remembered until that summer after third year, wasn't thought of or considered until Sirius had the time.

What was he supposed to say when he finally saw his father? The burning question in his throat had always been, _"Where were you?"_ Not in the actual position of his inhabitance, he knew he had been in Azkaban. It was the cry of the inner child, the one that had begged for his real father to come for him. Even when he was little he knew something wasn't right and he held the childish idealistics that one day a strong, nice man would come and tell him that he was his real father, and he was proud of him. For no reason at all, he just was. Because fathers were proud of sons. Draco's never was. Not his real one, or the one that had agreed to raise him as his own.

"Draco," he called again and the sound of rushing water hit his ears.

"She wants me to tell you," he whispered and he suddenly felt delirious, his eyes moving around suddenly and a shaking began running through his body.

"Then tell me," Sirius said, coming closer and reaching out to clasp Draco's shoulder.

The throbbing in his head was becoming more prominent, but this always happened during his nightmares. Why was it coming out now? Why was it hurting him now? "She's always telling me to tell you," he breathed, blinking furiously at the black dots that had taken over his vision.

Potter was reaching out to him, looking unsure and mildly worried. "Draco, are you okay?" he asked, looking as if he was going to steady him.

Draco stared at him for a moment, feeling his eyes blur and then return to him. It was all becoming groggy, voices and hands reaching out. He was falling, his eyes were darkening, and the last thing he heard himself saying was, "Make it stop."

_There was a faint ring of laughter in the air; tinkling and warming to the ears. It followed the wind, sweeping through the sky with a flourish and wrapping around him with a calm feeling. This was how it always started, with a deceptive air of warmth. It seduces the mind into thinking everything is good, everything will be better this time. But it never is. If anything, it's worse. He could feel his feet moving, pressing into the ground with each new step. He didn't know where he was going or why he was going, he just continued to move. He always knew who would be there though. She was always there. Beautiful, but morosely so. _

_His eyes saw nothing, he could only hear and move where his dream took him. He waited, his breath quickening until it drowned out the sweet cachinnating, replacing it with the fearful inhales of a boy who knew he was going to be in tremendous pain at any moment. Suddenly, his feet stopped, and along with it was his heart, he was sure. His eyes began to see, a blurred vision at first. And he prayed that his eyes would stay sealed shut; that his sight would never return. He didn't want to see her; didn't want to go through it again._

_But his eyes came back to him and he was greeted with a bedroom. The curtains were drawn open and to one side, letting in misty beams of sunlight to play over the dark rug and cheery wood bedroom accessories. She sat at her dresser, her back to him as she ran a brush through her silken caramel hair. She was wrapped in a green nightgown that slipped off her shoulder to show her sun kissed skin. Her hand stilled in its brushing, instead reaching out to the frame on her desk. He could make out the the shape easily, it was the one he cradled tightly when he missed her._

"_My baby," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet. It echoed in his mind, a merry tune that had his heart jumping. "You have to help me, my darling," she breathed, turning just slightly in her seat._

"_I-- I can't," Draco replied, his legs wobbling beneath him. He wanted so much to reach out to her, to hug her tightly and cry desperately in her lap. "You know I can't."_

"_But you can, my sweet child," she told him, nodding slowly, her hair slipping over her shoulders. "You can," she repeated, sounding weepy and hopeful._

"_Tell me what to do," Draco asked of her, taking a step across the bedroom, his hand raising just slightly. "Please, mum, tell me what to do and I'll do it," he said, feeling the tears slip from his eyes._

"_It's too late to save my life," she said, nodding. "But they've taken something Draco. They've taken something that needs to be returned," she exclaimed, her voice raising. "I don't want to hurt you, my son. D'you know it pains me to do this to you?" she asked, turning until she was facing him._

_Her face was as beautiful as it always was. With her cornflower blue eyes, so deep they verged on purple. Tears slipped down from them, rolling over her high, pink cheekbones. Her rosy mouth quivered though she tried to smile. "You're so handsome," she told him, her hand lifting to wipe at her face. "Such a beautiful man you've grown to be," she sniffled, shaking her head. "I wanted to be there, my little soldier. I wanted to watch you grow and hold you everyday."_

"_Why didn't you?" he asked, stepping closer. "Why couldn't you just let things be?" he questioned, his shoulders slumping. "You didn't have to go there. We would've been fine. Dad would've escaped eventually. We would've had each other," he told her, inhaling deeply. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground, his chest aching and his eyes burning._

_She slipped from her seat, kneeling on the floor across from him. Her fingers dug into her nightgown, as if wanting to reach out but forced not to. "I can't tell you the answers to your questions, Draco. Only you can figure them out. They're in there, my darling, they're in your mind. Search for them. You'll find them," she whispered, nodding._

"_It hurts mum," he told her, his head throbbing and his chest heaving. "Make it stop, please. It hurts so much."_

"_I know it does baby," she breathed, reaching out with her small, shaking hand._

_Draco's hand twitched, slowly rising from his side and reaching out to hers. Their fingers brushed one another's and he reached farther, trying to grasp her, to pull her to him. Just to hold her, only once, just one hug and he'd be sated from the pain. But as he tugged on her, bringing her near him, everything began to change. The glass of the windows shattered, splintered pieces flying everywhere. A heavy wind broke through the windows bombarding them with its treacherous weight._

"_I-- I have to go," she told him, pulling her hand back._

"_No," he said, keeping her hand in his. "No don't leave me again. Please, don't leave me," he whispered, his other hand coming up to hold out to her._

_She stared at it hesitantly, before finally reaching out and placing her palm in his. "Will you save me, Draco?" she asked, tears falling from her beautifully broken eyes. "Will my little boy save me?"_

"_I'll save you," he told her, nodding. "I'll save you."_

_Behind her the wall crumbled apart, the vanity and dresser disappeared and fell into darkness. It was pitch black where she had once sat, before rolling flames came up to lick at the ground around them. Voices could be heard, dark and croaky in the distance. "Eltanin..." a shuddering whisper called, sounding like a heavy cough. "Leave him be and accept it, Eltanin..."_

"_No," she told the voice, shaking her head and staring at Draco with fear. "Don't let it take me, Draco. Don't let it take me again."_

"_I won't," he said, pulling on her hands to bring her closer. She was nearly within arms length, when something reached out to clasp her leg. It pulled on her so hard that she landed face down on the floor, her hands still gripping Draco's. She screamed, high and terrified, pulling at him to help her._

_He held on tightly, pulling on her and moving to wrap his hands around her shoulders, pulling her toward him and away from the fiery damnation behind her. Slowly, she began to change. Her skin deteriorated before his eyes; going from a pale pink to grey and then falling away. "Help me," she pleaded, her hands pulling at him. "Don't let him do it, Draco."_

"_Stop it!" he yelled, his throat burning and his face turning to the black glare of death behind her. "Leave her alone." It cackled in the distance, finding amusement in his pain, in his need for her. He turned back to her, sorrowful and upset. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed._

"_Don't let me go," she told him, her eyes turning red and beginning to bleed from the corners, weeping red pear shaped drops._

"_I won't, I promise, I won't," he told her, hiccuping and coughing at the searing pain in his throat._

_He watched, his stomach lurching, as her face melted to the muscle beneath, bloody and raw. Her nails dug into his arms, tearing at him and trying to pull herself closer. The veins and muscles all began falling from her arms, her face, her legs. Chunks of her littered the floor and then burned away, smoking until they became mounds of ash._

_Still, he pulled, he tried to save her from whatever creature was dragging her away from him. Its black hand was wrapping around her ankle, glowing like embers of a fire in its cracked texture. "Eltanin," it called, drawing out her name._

_Draco shook his head, screaming at it, "You can't have her!" He ignored his throbbing mind, how his eyes were blurring from the searing pain behind them. He was holding nothing but bloody bones now, and still she struggled to get to him. Her eyes had fallen from the hollows of her face, dissolving on the carpet beneath her._

"_Draco," she called. "My baby," she whispered. "Save me," she managed before her jaw fell from her face, melting to ash on the carpet._

"_I can't," he croaked, sobbing painfully as he held on._

_The hand at her ankle tugged savagely and she was ripped from his grasp, dragged across the ground until she was sucked into the black, fiery vortex at the back. Draco screamed, his hands clawing at the floor as he tried to run to her but found himself stuck to the ground. His throat was raw, his eyes were hardly seeing anything anymore, and his heart was beating so quickly he thought it might break out of his chest. He sucked in air raggedly, trying to shake off the blinding pain that consumed him. His eyes darkened and he remembered wishing he couldn't see earlier, he took that back now. "Mum," he whispered, before he was taken away from his nightmare._

"Draco," his father's voice could be heard shouting. "Remus," he yelled, sounding hysterically triumphant. "Remus, I think he's coming to."

"Draco," his uncle called, his voice a little more calm. "Draco, can you hear me?" he asked.

He felt hands on his face, on his shoulders, and then suddenly he realized he was leaning against his father. His chest hurt and his head was aching with the side effects of his nightmare. He couldn't understand why he had been pulled away. He was thinking about her too much, it must've drained him. And he had admitted something she said, that always hurt. Perhaps it was a combination of the two, his head hurt too much to think it over.

"Master Draco is feeling better?" asked the overzealous house elf Dizzy.

He turned to her, his eyes still blurry but for one stark and terrifying moment she had his mother's face, the decaying, dying one. Just that one look had him rocketing away from her and out of Sirius' grasp to lean panting against the wall. He covered his face, his head low and his breathing coming in thick, almost pointless gasps. His eyes were darkening again and he forced himself to blink it away, he lifted his head, staring at the roof and begging for his mind not to steal him away again.

"Draco," his father called hesitantly, sounding as if he wasn't sure what to do and was more than a little scared of how his son was going to react.

He risked looking at his father and found that his face didn't change to Elly's, which calmed him some, still made him feel a bit insane though. He stared into Sirius' grey eyes searchingly, and could see his reflection, terrified and beyond rattled. His father looked almost shocked to see him like that and reached out. But Draco drew away, pushing his back farther against the wall. He could feel the slick sheen of sweat over his body and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest.

As he looked around, he found himself surrounded by people. Exactly when had a nightmare caused so much of a turn out? Molly Weasley was standing worriedly to the left of Remus, Ron by her side, his expression unreadable. Potter was standing just behind Sirius, his arms crossed, but actually looking genuinely concerned. And then there was Dizzy, wringing her hands and shifting on her feet beside Sirius as he crouched near him, but he barely glanced at her, scared of what he might see. He wondered briefly where Granger was and his gaze swept the room again unsuccessfully. She was probably off reading a book on elf rights or painful ways of retribution on boys who own house elfs.

"Draco," Sirius called to him, drawing his attention back to him. "Can you hear me?" he asked, and though he could, it still sounded hollow, almost like an echo in his ears.

Slowly, Draco nodded his head, his hand raising to his pounding chest and trying to still it. He couldn't calm down and it scared him to the point where he was sure it wasn't helping his heart at all. He had always had control of himself, or as much as he really could. His eyes were darting around, suspicious and scared. He felt out of sorts, he wasn't used to this at all. He always had privacy when this happened, but this time he had actually passed out in front of three people, two of which he seriously did not want knowing it happened.

He could see Elly when his eyes closed too long; see her face melting from her head. "_Save me_," she whispered to him, her voice soft and yet sharp at the same time. And his mind was cruel enough to show her in front of him again, reaching out to him and screaming in agony. "_My little soldier_," she whimpered and he swore he felt her breath again his ear. She almost sounded mocking now, but in the moment it had been anything but. It was like two different people; a loving one who he lost in his nightmare and a creature of darkness when he thought back to it. His feet dug into the carpet, pushing at it as if to get him farther away from everything. He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts to leave him. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, growling under his breath.

"Draco," Remus called to him, slowly approaching from across the room. His steps were slow, as if he was trying to warn him he was coming. "Look at me," he asked, soft but commanding.

Draco's head lolled back and he pulled his hands from his face, turning to stare at his uncle with curtained eyes. His mouth seemed to dry quite suddenly and he heard a ringing in his ears. He shook his head again, blinking rapidly when his eyes fuzzed. He could hear his uncle faintly, but his gaze was drawn to Dizzy once more. She stared at him, an expression of worry, but her face kept morphing. It was like a picture that went it and out of focus. One minute she looked like a scared house elf, the next she looked like his agonized mother, screaming out for him to help. The skin changed, melting away and Draco couldn't close his eyes, couldn't turn away. He felt tears fall from his eyes and his chest stop moving. He wasn't breathing anymore and as much as his lungs screamed for air, his brain continued to keep it from happening. He watched in rapt horror as his mother's face melted away, until she was nothing but a bloody skull, with caramel hair matted against it. "_Stop_," he wanted to yell, but his mouth wasn't working. "_Stop, please stop_," his thoughts screamed, sobbing.

"He's not breathing," Sirius exclaimed, his voice buzzing in Draco's ears.

"Or blinking," Potter could be heard adding, sounding thoroughly confused and shocked.

"Get a healer!" his father shouted, hysterically.

"They won't get here in time," Remus told him, sorrowfully.

"What's that Muggle thing they do?" Ron called out, at least trying to be helpful.

"CPR," Potter told him.

"What's that?" Remus asked, hopefully.

Potter stuttered for a moment, "I-- I've never learned how to--"

"Get out of the way," Granger's voice could be heard saying. And a moment later she was sitting in front of him, completely blocking Dizzy from his view. Her soft hand reached out, wrapping around his chin and directing his face to hers. Her chocolate eyes caught his and stared, not blinking, creating a connection.

He blinked, regaining the ability to do so, and suddenly a gush of air came through his mouth and entered his lungs. It was painful and relaxing all at once. His throat ached while his chest was moving quickly with each battered intake. He shook his head, still seeing his mother's blue eyes fall from their sockets. He could hear Granger's voice though, soft and whispery. He couldn't make out what she was saying but he suddenly had the need to have her close, that somehow she was going to stop him from falling asleep. And in a shot, he had pulled her against him, burying his head in her shoulder and balling his hands against the back of his shirt. He was too caught up to remember they were surrounded by people or that she had hated him for six years. She was the only thing standing betwen him and insanity, he could give up the little dignity he had left and hold on to her if she would let him.

"It's okay," he could hear her murmuring. "It's all right," she told him, her hand running tentatively over his neck, reassuringly.

"It won't stop," he told her, shaking his head. He glanced at Dizzy behind her and saw the flash of his mother. He gripped Granger tighter, burying his face farther against her shoulder. "Make it stop," he pleaded softly. "I can't watch it again," he cried, hating that his tears were now pressing against her neck. "I can't do it anymore," he told her.

"You don't have to," she told him, shaking her head. "Sirius and Remus are going to help you through it," she assured, stroking the nape of his neck.

"I've tried everything," he admitted, his mind too clouded to stop him from being honest. "It never ends. Dreamless draughts, potions, charms, they were all useless," he said, quietly. "It's going to kill me and take me to where she is," he whispered. "Nothing can stop it."

"No," she said, shaking her head and hugging him to her. "They're going to save you from it, Draco."

Pulling his head back, he stared at her, his chest slowing to a normal heartbeat. "I can't be saved," he breathed. He felt his hands go limp against her and his eyes fall closed. His body slumped against the wall, his shoulders sagging and his mind tearing him away from consciousness. He didn't know why or how, but there was no nightmare coming at him like it usually did. It was just darkness, pure and simple; no dreams, no nightmares. It was the most peaceful sleep he'd ever had in his life and he wished it would never end.

* * *

**A/N** _And there you have it! One of Draco's nightmares. I hope none of you were too... grossed out. I know it was a tad bit detailed, but it was needed to get across the horrors he sees his mother going through. There are hints at something greater in this chapter, so read carefully. All right, well I hope you've enjoyed this. Please review, it's very appreciated!_

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	9. 9

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_Oh wow. This chapter was terrifying. Draco's pain came through so well, I could see everything he was going through. It's horrible how much he DOES have to go through, but I realize why you're doing it. I absolutely love how you put in the little tiny details that might gross us out a little, but you put in it there anyway. Some authors leave it out because they don't want their readers to run away screaming before the end of the chapter, but you don't, and I absolutely love that. The way you described Elly at the beginning was so beautiful, but I could imagine her voice and her fear and her emotion when she was calling Draco for help. When you described Elly melting away, I could see it in my minds' eye, and it almost made me want to cry. I love how, in all of your stories, you bring in the nightmares, but in a totally different way. You bring them in in a way that people don't expect. Oh, and how you brought Hermione in! I NEVER would have expected that. I know there's something more to Draco's nightmares and I think that somebody else is causing them, at least a bit of them. Lucius maybe? Anyway, absolutely amazing chapter, and I cannot wait for the next one."_ - **_PiperPaigePhoebe01_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter seven**: _Lily Hermione Potter, Hotkat144, Tenhisangel, spacesareoverrated, Pam Briggs, Phoenix flame01, Keither Serenity, Closet Fan, TheSlayerettes, bena24, mugglette, Caligirl-HPLVR, **Shaggy37, seaweedqueen, Kyuuketuski - Plot Biotch, Maybaby525, devotedHPfan, cle be, anie smiles, Zarroc, mskiti (Melanie aka Tabi), niic smiles, Liyenette, take me home, livelife-loveHGDM**_ and _especially** PiperPaigePhoebe01, annieca,**_ and**_ galloping-goose_**.

**A/N**: _Just so everybody knows, Elly was a pureblooded Slytherin, while Sirius is a pureblooded former Gryffindor. Meaning, Draco is still a pureblooded wizard. This is in regards to a question I was asked and felt it might be best if I cleared it up for everyone! Thanks for asking!_

**_A Family Affair_**

-**9**-

Harry stood completely still, watching from near the doorway as Draco and Sirius let down all barriers and simply began to rage at each other. It shocked Harry to actually see Draco lose his mask so much that he was being openly honest; though it was coming out in a very negative manner. He was screaming himself hoarse and it was pretty obvious that it was having a horrible effect on Sirius. But he stood tall, he accepted what his son was saying and he tried to make what little amends he could. For some reason, Harry only came to realize in that moment what Draco had been put through. He assumed since Draco was so aloof about all of it that he had come to terms with the past, at least concerning his father. But there it was like a slap in the face, Draco hadn't forgiven Sirius for "abandoning" him when he was a boy.

He glanced past Sirius and Draco, who now had his father pinned to the wall and was screaming in his face his every fear, to see Ron. His best friend looked so shocked he had actually forgotten the bowl of food in his hand. It hung limply from his grasp as he stared, wide-eyed at Draco hoarsely telling his father that he waited for him but he never came. It was a stark reality, one that Harry had never thought of much. He looked at Draco as the boy who had ruined his dream for a family, but now he was seeing him as the boy who wanted a family but never got one. There were those similarities again, staring him in the face.

Sirius looked beyond hurt, as if he had thought the conversation would be centered on the loss of Draco's mother, on his nightmares, not on what he had done wrong as a father. It was obvious that while he knew he had been wrong in what he did, he didn't know how to make it up to his son for doing it. He gave out lame answers that Harry knew he would be even more angry at had he been the one spilling his guts to his father. And like he would have, Draco completely snapped at his father. Until he was all yelled out and stumbled away.

Harry kept quiet, thought of turning his eyes away but didn't, and simply waited to see what Draco would do. He could see the Slytherin boys mask come up but his mouth didn't seem to be following the action. His pain hid behind the veil of his eyes that now darted around as if he were suspicious, but he spoke the words that plagued him. "She wants me to tell you," his voice announced, quiet and shaky.

"Then tell me," Sirius asked, reaching out to clasp Draco's shoulder, all anger melting away with his hope that perhaps Draco was coming around.

However, if he could see his son's face he would think different. Draco was paling quickly and his eyes were pinching at the sides as if he were holding off an excruciating headache. His body was shaking, not so much that it was very obvious, but Harry caught the look of defeat the crossed Draco's expression. "She's always telling me to tell you," he croaked, blinking furiously.

"Draco, are you okay?" Harry asked, reaching out. In that moment Draco wasn't his enemy of six years, he was a sad boy who looked as if he were going to pass out. He looked up, staring at him for a moment, his eyes filled with such unbelievable pain that Harry almost pulled away. But then he was falling, his eyes rolling back and body hitting the ground with a thick thud.

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed, walking into the room and looking shocked.

"Draco," Sirius shouted, hurrying forward to grab his son and pull him up from the ground. He checked his pulse immediately, and looked up at Harry with a terrified expression. "It's erratic, he's... I don't know what to... I..." He shook his head, looking around frantically. "Get Remus," he told them, waving an arm back to the den, explaining that they should use the floo system. "This has never happened... He doesn't... This isn't good," he mumbled, holding Draco against his chest as if cradling a toddler.

Ron agreed to go, running out of the dining room to the fireplace. Harry didn't know why, but he couldn't leave Draco and Sirius alone. He kneeled down beside them, watching as a distraught father held his broken son. It was both heartening and painful; this was just further proof that Draco was Sirius' real son. Although, if he had fallen, pained with nightmares and angered with his life to the point Draco was, wouldn't Sirius help him too? Sirius cared, Harry knew that, even Draco told him that. Why was he always so jealous when it was obvious that Draco wasn't living a perfect life either?

Looking down at Draco's prone body, he realized the boy was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling so quickly he probably wasn't getting much air to begin with. His hands were twitching and his face kept curling in pain while his jaw clenched. His feet were kicking at the floor, digging into it and pushing off. Sirius was holding him tightly, his hand over Draco's heart as if he were willing it to slow down. His eyes swept over his son's face, searchingly. He probably blamed it all on himself, likely thinking that if he hadn't said anything, Draco wouldn't be going through it.

"I-- I can't," Draco croaked, his voice thick and remorseful. The words had both Harry and Sirius staring at him expectantly, but he was fast asleep, shouting out whatever it was he was saying in his nightmare. "You know I can't," he said, his hands moving by his side, twitching and curling into fists.

"Wake up Draco," Sirius told him, leaning in and shaking him slightly. "Com'on son, wake up," he said, sounding as if he were pleading with him. He closed his eyes tightly, his shoulders stiff and his face dark with fear.

"Tell me what to do," Draco rasped, his hand raising just slightly. "Please mum," Harry noticed Sirius' murmured worry, "tell me what to do and I'll do it," he whispered, tears slipping out the sides of his closed eyes. He gasped his mouth falling open and his chest lurching forward before his head lolled to one side and his body went limp again.

Sirius pulled him up further, his arms wrapping around him in a scared embrace. He swept his hand over Draco's hair as his head rested against Sirius' shoulder. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," he chanted, quietly.

"We would've been fine," Draco croaked, his head shaking and his hands clawing at the floor. "Dad would've... We would've had each other," he said, inhaling sharply. His hands rose from his sides, grabbing at his chest and he cried out, tears spilling rampantly from his eyes.

Harry didn't know what to do, he wanted to help somehow but there was nothing he could do to end a nightmare. Should they even wake him? Had he ever been woken up from his nightmares? He thought darkly of Lucius and couldn't imagine how horrible he would've been to Draco knowing that he was suffering from nightmares. He would've ranted about how childish it was for Draco to have them, how he was a disgrace for being afraid of his dreams. Perhaps that's why he learned to put up barriers, emotionally and physically, so nobody like Lucius would come in and tell him how pathetic he was for having them.

Remus came running through the door then, but Ron was nowhere to be seen. Harry decided not to question it, thinking that his friend probably just didn't want to watch. Remus kneeled down beside Sirius and Draco, glancing at his fellow Marauder with a worried expression. He looked down at Draco, wincing at seeing his nephew in such agony.

Draco screamed, loud and disturbed as his hands reached up to his head, his fingers pressing into his temples. "It hurts mum," he whimpered, his chest heaving as he breathed erratically. "Make it stop, please. It hurts so much."

The three men who stood unsure around Draco all reared back for a moment, staring wide eyed at Draco and then glancing at each other as if expecting somebody else to have the solution. Harry had seen people hurt, been in pain himself, but he was certain he'd never screamed like that. It was a howling tone, one that chilled him right down to the bone. 'Tremendous and excruciating pain,' was not fitting enough to title what kind of torture he must be going through.

"What do we do?" Sirius asked, staring at Remus, his eyes rimmed red and his mouth shaking. "I don't know what to... He's..." his voice gave away and he shook his head, unable to form questions or sentences. He was scared, and perhaps that's what made Harry even more worried.

"I know," Remus said, nodding understandingly. "I don't know if there's anything we _can_ do," he replied, swallowing.

"But he's... I can't let him... He's hurting so much, Remus," he said quietly, shaking his head and clasping Draco tighter.

Draco's body suddenly tensed against Sirius' and he turned to one side, as if he were shielding himself from something. His upturned legs abruptly collapsed to the floor and one of his hands curled around the new, cream coloured carpet beneath him, his knuckles turned white with the strength he put behind it. He began panting convulsively, his body twitching and his chest lurching sporadically. "Don't leave me again... please don't leave me," he whispered through gritted teeth, his eyes fluttering.

"I'm not leaving you," Sirius told him, likely knowing it wasn't directed at him, but promising anyway. "I'll never leave you," he breathed, his eyes clamping shut tightly.

Remus reached out, wrapping his hand around Draco's fisted palm over his heart.

"I'll save you," Draco said firmly, his head nodding shortly. His free hand coming up from the floor and curling around his father's arm, his fingers pressing almost painfully, but holding on as if his life depended on it. If possible, his chest began to move even quicker and his breathing sped up to desperate pants.

The door opened again and in came Ron with his mother, Harry wanted to ask the point of bringing Molly, but Ron quickly told him, "She's had seven kids, she has to know something about nightmares," he exclaimed, his voice loud and frantic, as if he were running around the wrong area of the house and searching for something he couldn't remember. Harry had to hand it to him though, his logic made sense. Then wondered why it sounded so weird to think that Ron being logical was just not normal.

Molly came over, her hands wringing in front of her and her face worried. She stared down at Draco, her eyes darting over him with a motherly sympathy. "I've... I've never seen them this bad," she said, honestly.

Sweat had become prominent on Draco's body, a gleaming sheen that matted his hair down and had his clothes clinging to him. Harry wondered if he looked this bad when his nightmares haunted him and dearly hoped he didn't. He glanced at Ron, seeing that the youngest Weasley son had gone a little pale and was tugging at the collar of his shirt. "I'm... I'll get Mione, she probably knows what to... what to do," he managed, before turning around and bolting from the room.

Draco's head began twisting and turning back and forth while his breaths became shuddering gasps that left him quivering and shaking. "Leave her alone," he pleaded, his voice sharp but emotional. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed, tears cascading down the sides of his face.

"It's going to be okay," Sirius mumbled, nodding. "It'll all be be okay."

Molly tutted, reaching out and wiping them from his face, her thumbs brushing his cheeks. She held his head still, tears coming to her own eyes. "He's shaking," she whispered, more to herself, Harry deduced. "Oh my, he's hurting," she said quietly.

He started coughing and hiccuping on his tears, his chest lurching forward, but Sirius held him back against him. Molly jumped away when she noticed blood seeping out of Draco's palms. She shook her head, standing on her feet and holding her hands to her chest. "He's... Is he..." she asked, looking at them.

Remus pulled Draco's fisted hand back and found it covered in blood, but it seemed to disappear before his eyes. He blinked, shaking his head. The same happened to the blood that came out over Sirius' arm, it would be evident for a moment, but then evaporate quickly, no trace of it left behind. Deep gashes broke out over Draco's arms and he cried out, his body suddenly struggling against Sirius' hold. Staring down at them, Harry was almost sure that they were finger nails that had dug into Draco's arms. He couldn't evaluate them long though because they seemed to disappear just as quickly as the blood had.

"You can't have her," Draco screamed, his body wracked with sobs as he pulled at Sirius' arm, his teeth clenched and his face twisted with agony.

Molly moved to stand behind Harry, near the door where Ron had come back through. He made no explanation, simply stood quietly to the side. He never told them where Hermione was or what she had said, he simply stood close to his mother.

Draco's head began shaking against Sirius' shoulder again, his eyes clenched tightly closed. Sirius' jaw was clamped tightly shut while his eyes stared down at Draco sadly, tears silently slipping down his face. He held on to him, letting him thrash and scream and simply waited for it to end.

Remus stared down at his nephew, his eyes dark and his face twisted with remorse. "Merlin help him," he whispered to himself, stating the thought of most of the people in the room.

"I can't," Draco croaked, sobbing as he kicked himself high and against Sirius tightly. His grip around Sirius' arm tightened, pulling it forcibly against his chest. He stopped suddenly, until he began screaming and pushing back against his father, looking as if he were reaching out for something in the distance. His hands groped blindly and his fingers dug at the floor. Remus stood up, moving out of the way as Sirius struggled to hold him back.

Finally, Draco slumped against Sirius, sucking in air raggedly and shaking his head with hardly any energy at all. His hand clutched at his heart again, fingers digging into himself. "Mum," he whispered, going completely limp in Sirius' arms, his head lolling to one side as tears continued to drip from his face.

Sirius rocked him for a moment, his arms tight and his mouth moving with whispered words of reassurance. Harry watched silently, feeling as if he did nothing and knowing he really did. There was nothing that could be done. The only person who probably did anything worth something was Sirius, who held on to his son throughout all of it, telling him he would never leave him.

After a little while, Sirius cautiously tried to wake him up, which is when everything went haywire. Draco looked terrified and out of sorts; at first, he appeared somewhat calm against Sirius, but when Dizzy came in, he lost it. He jerked away, throwing himself against the wall and burying his face in his hands. He fit the part of a caged animal wracked with insanity, but Harry kept that comment to himself. He watched as Remus and Sirius both reached out to Draco, trying to calm him and pull him back to reality.

It must've been scary and confusing to wake up to a room full of people after he had just been through whatever it was he saw. All Harry knew was that whatever plagued him in his nightmares was cruel and unyielding. He wanted to pity him, but knew that all he would get in return was a lot of trouble. Harry knew what it felt like to be put through terrorizing nightmares that simply don't let go, and he hated talking about them with anyone.

Remus almost looked as if were getting through when Draco looked at him but then he began shaking his head and his gaze locked on Dizzy. His eyes glazed over and his chest stopped moving. Harry looked back and forth from the house elf to Draco and wondered why it was that Dizzy was having such a huge impact on him. He heard his godfather shout that Draco wasn't breathing and he numbingly replied, "Or blinking." A second later he felt stupid for pointing out something that didn't seem important, and yet it made sense in his head.

He heard Ron suggest a Muggle means of resuscitation and the three lettered help came out of his mouth easily, "CPR." However, when asked what it was, he really couldn't help. He had never paid attention to what had to be done, or how to do it properly. He knew it could be risky if certain precautions weren't done and he certainly didn't want to be the one to kill Draco because of his misaction. He didn't have to though, because a moment later, Hermione was there and taking it over for everyone.

She kneeled in front of him and blocked his view of Dizzy immediately, and for some reason Harry was sure that she meant to stand there for a reason. She didn't perform CPR like he had thought, but instead moved his head so they were staring directly at each other. She established eye contact for a good minute and then suddenly he was inhaling air. Draco shook his head, gasping and blinking furiously. Hermione was still sitting terribly close to him, whispering something Harry couldn't hear. Suddenly, shocking the majority of the room, Draco had pulled Hermione against him and buried his head in her shoulder.

Harry expected a surge of anger, or even disgust, from either or them, but Hermione held on and Draco seemed to forget that she was the girl he had tormented for six years. He also seemed to forget he was in a room of people, because he gripped her tightly and told her things he likely wouldn't say to anybody else.

Harry's brows rose as he listened to Draco tell her, "It won't stop," shaking his head as he revealed such a hidden detail. Draco looked past her shoulder to Dizzy and Harry wasn't surprised to see him flinch and grab Hermione tighter. "Make it stop," he pleaded, "I can't watch it again."

Harry wondered if he was seeing something they weren't or if he was talking about his nightmare. He felt a tug at his heart, and truly felt sorry for Draco in that moment. He hoped it didn't show on his face though, because Draco would bite his head off if he remembered later.

"I can't do it anymore," Draco admitted, and it was likely the best words Sirius could ever hear. He was willing to get help then, right? That's what he was saying?

"You don't have to," Hermione told him, shaking her head. "Sirius and Remus are going to help you through it," she assured, stroking the nape of his neck.

Harry couldn't be sure, but she sounded genuinely concerned for him. He wondered if it was simply because he was hurt and desperate and her soft instincts told her to help, or if perhaps she felt something more for the boy. Maybe she had never really hated him, but met his behavior with hardly restrained anger. As he watched them, he forgot that they were Granger and Malfoy, known to be two people who simply couldn't stand one another. Had he not known them, he would've thought them close, with the intimate pose they struck. She touched him willingly, as if it were the most normal thing, and he clung to her as if she were the only thing that could keep him grounded.

"I've tried everything," Draco admitted to her and Harry was quite sure that he truly had no idea how many people were listening then. It was so rare for him to be open and honest that Harry didn't always know when he was around "Malfoy" or "Black". But this was unmistakably Sirius' real son, he was too tormented to hide himself.

"It never ends. Dreamless draughts, potions, charms, they were all useless," he said, quietly. He sounded so pained and restless, as if there was nothing left for him and really, Harry wouldn't be surprised to hear him ask for death in that moment.

"It's going to kill me and take me to where she is," Draco whispered. "Nothing can stop it."

"No," Hermione said firmly, shaking her head and hugging him to her. "They're going to save you from it, Draco."

Harry could hear the desperation in her voice, thinly veiled as it was. She wasn't sure that they would be able to save him, but Harry knew her new mission was to do just that. She hugged him like she would Harry or Ron were they in the same situation, with urgency and concern. She didn't bother hiding the fact that she was openly coddling him, and Harry wondered if she too forgot they were surrounded by people. For one revealing moment, Harry had to admit that the two of them looked right together. Draco never spoke unless pushed and yet here he was opening up to her, holding her. Didn't that mean something?

Draco drew his head back from her shoulder, though his hands still held her close to him. And he said four words that were sharp as ice and just as cold. "I can't be saved," he breathed. He went limp against her and slumped back to the wall. Thought it was a scary moment where Harry truly feared there would be a repeat of earlier, which he didn't believe either Sirius or Draco could take, he couldn't help but notice a look of content cross Draco's face. And he believed that he was at peace for that time, without pain or sadness. He felt a silent triumph for the boy in front of him and had to question where it came from.

"It's okay," Hermione told them, looking back at the worried faces behind her. Her arms reached out and wrapped around Draco's waist, pulling him from his awkward stance against the wall. "I don't think he's going to have another nightmare."

"How can you be sure?" Sirius asked, coming closer and reaching out to clasp Draco's forearm.

"He's too calm," she replied, shaking her head. "I was reading his-- a book earlier, about nightmares and how to control them from breaking down the psyche. One of the reasons Draco likely has nightmares is because he's expecting them. He knows what will happen when he closes his eyes, so because he thinks they're coming, they do," she told them, her hand absently stroking the side of his face.

Sirius nodded, his mouth tightly shut, and reached out to pick Draco up off the floor. He held him as if he weighed nothing, though Harry had a hard time believing that. As a Quidditch player himself, he knew what the game and the workout before hand did for the body. Draco may be rather slim, but he likely had a strong form. Still though, Sirius walked out of the dining room and up the stairs as if his son were a young, little boy who had fallen asleep and needed to be put to bed.

Hermione followed behind, a look on her face as if she were hiding something. Harry wanted to ask her what else she knew, but he decided not to do anything while everybody else was around. He glanced at Molly and Ron who were talking quietly. Remus motioned for him to follow him so Harry left the dining room and walked over to the man standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, this morning has been interesting, hasn't it?" Remus said, trying to smile.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking up to Draco's door as it closed quietly behind Hermione. "So his nightmares... they're..."

"Terrible," Remus said, nodding. "I've never actually been around to see him through one, but the look on Sirius' face tells me that it was a lot worse this time. I've been noticing that his health has been deteriorating, but I had no idea he was going through that much when he sleeps. And when he woke up..." he trailed off, a haunted look in his eyes.

Harry remembered exactly how Draco's face curled up in terror when he woke up. He had been resting easy against Sirius' chest, not complaining about the attention, but the second his eyes landed on the house elf, he went completely crazy. Harry could still see the look of terror that crossed Draco's face every time he looked at her. He wondered what it was Draco was seeing, because he couldn't see anything wrong with the small creature. She still looked scared, battling tears for her master. They had been getting on fine that morning, talking about cutting down her chores around the house. Dizzy had been the one to bring up the nightmares, but she did try to help him by giving him the book.

"Did you see him staring at Dizzy?" Harry asked cautiously.

Remus looked over at him, pulling away from his thoughts and shaking off the morose expression he was wearing. "Yes," he said, nodding. "I wonder why it was her. I mean, he looked at the rest of us and he was fine."

"Only he can tell us," Harry said with a sigh.

Remus nodded before exhaling heavily. "Listen Harry, I don't mean to center you out, but I think it would be best if you talked to Ron about what you both saw. Draco is already very temperamental about it, and I'm not meaning to say that either of you would use this to taunt him. I'm just saying, it would be best if neither of you brought it up, at least until we've spoken to him. He might not even remember you were there, which would likely be for the best."

Harry nodded, feeling a little like he was being chastised for something he hadn't done. Of course, he wouldn't have done anything. He knew how hard it was to have nightmares, he wouldn't be throwing it in Draco's face. Aside from that, he really didn't want to get on Draco's bad side right then. Not with Sirius trying to reach out to him, and Harry's own wishes to be close to Sirius. He was slightly worried that if he angered Draco, Sirius would send him off and tell him it just wasn't working out. Yes, Sirius cared, but right now, wasn't Draco more important to him?

"All right, well I'm going to get a healer," he said, frowning. "That was a strange occurrence. Ron told me they had been fighting and he suddenly stumbled back and passed out. Now Draco isn't one to give up on a fight, unless he's said too much, but he's never passed out before. And I really don't see how a screaming match with his father would do that to him," he said, shaking his head. "Tell Sirius I'll be back soon," he asked, clapping Harry on the back.

Nodding, Harry turned and walked upstairs, his hand slid over the smooth banister, it felt cool beneath his palm. He realized he was walking terribly slow and wondered if he was just the tiniest bit worried about going in to Draco's room. He knew they said he wasn't having any more nightmares, but he was still a little hesitant about whether or not it started after he had been moved. He and Draco weren't close, but seeing anybody in that much pain was hard to watch.

When he finally reached the top step, he simply stood staring at the door for awhile. Inhaling deeply and swallowing his fear, he stepped forward and turned the handle. His legs felt like jelly beneath him and he was almost certain that he was going to say something stupid when he walked in to see Hermione and Sirius. He clamped his mouth shut just to be sure and walked through the doorway, noticing that it didn't creak like his did, and closed it behind him. He watched Hermione readjust the blankets around Draco's shoulder before she unconsciously brushed a strand of his caramel hair from his closed eyes. Harry wondered curiously about the thinner blue blanket that poked out beneath the thick plush green comforter.

His attention turn to Sirius though, who was pacing on the other side of the room, one of his hand around his chin while the other wrapped around his middle. His eyes darted around and his jaw clenched and released with worry. He was muttering under his breath, words Harry couldn't make out but was sure to be the ranting of a worried father. He felt a pain in his own chest, wondering briefly how it would feel to have his own father worry over him like that. Then felt a stab for being so selfish; he shouldn't be jealous of Draco when he was obviously going through something terrible.

Clearing his throat, Harry felt himself flush slightly when both of the conscious people in the room turned to him abruptly. "R-Remus is getting a healer," he managed and nearly slapped himself for stuttering. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked around uncomfortably. "Is there... anything I can do?" he asked, his brow lifting questioningly and his mouth half frowning out of feeling useless.

"Could you get me a bowl of water and some rags?" Hermione asked, looking over at Sirius and then him. "He's coming down with a fever," she explained.

Sirius snapped to attention, hurrying across the room to sit beside him. "D'you think he'll have another nightmare?" he asked worriedly.

Hermione shook her head, sighing. "I think for right now, he's going to be all right," she said sounding sure. Harry caught the brief look of uncertainty cross her face though and knew that she was really just trying to calm down Sirius and was blindly hoping that Draco didn't fall into another fit. She hadn't even seen what happened to him, she just walked in during his paranoid episode to save him. He still had questions about what she was doing and where she had been. But he put those away and left to get her the water and rags. While he was in the kitchen collecting it, he overheard Dizzy mumbling to herself.

"Yous bad," she said quietly, sounding like she were going to cry. "Dizzy didn't mean to. Dizzy care about Draco. Draco good. Yous bad. Dizzy bad. Dizzy no want to anymore. Yous hurting Draco."

Harry was about to question what she was talking about when Ron came into the kitchen, clearing his throat and rocking back and forth on his feet. At the noise, the house elf popped away. "Hey mate," he said, trying to sound cheery but failing. "Mum said she was goin' to hang 'round 'till the healer comes and checks him out," he said, nodding.

"Oh," Harry said, turning the water in the sink on, the rush of it drowning out all other noise until he began searching around for some rags away from it. "So, Remus talked to me and he thinks we shouldn't bring this up with Draco when he wakes up," he told him, uneasily.

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding, speaking louder than needed, "No, my mum said the same thing, I know what they mean. I wasn't going to..." He shrugged, looking around uncomfortably. "I don't really like the bloke, but after what jus' happened I'm not goin' to be using it against him or anything. I mean he was... Was it just me or did he look like he was being torn apart from the inside?" he asked, his voice low as if he were trying to whisper.

Harry nodded, a frown marring his face. "He really did," he agreed. "Listen, y'know Dizzy? The house elf," he said, quietly. Ron nodded, stepping forward as if he knew that whatever Harry was saying meant another adventure where they'd have to keep it quiet. "I want to check her out. I don't exactly... I have a weird feeling about her, y'know?"

Ron nodded, crossing his arms. "Yeah, even for a house elf, that chocolate pudding was just too good," he mumbled, looking suspicious.

Harry nearly laughed but instead rolled his eyes, turning off the loud tap and picking up the large bowl of water from the sink. He had the rags stuffed haphazardly in his pockets as he began walking out of the kitchen. "It was just the way Draco was looking at her when he began having his episode afterwards. I mean, he looked--"

"Bloody well terrified," Ron finished, snorting with understanding. "I get that, mate. I mean, did you see the blood appear and then disappear like that? Whatever was goin' on his dreams somehow came out," he said, his eyes widening. "And the screaming..." He shuddered, his eyes turning away. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he was being ripped limb for limb."

Sighing, Harry nodded and continued on his way through the dining room and to the main hall. Upon reaching the stairs, he heard the fireplace roar to life and knew that Remus had returned with the healer. He wanted to continue his conversation about the house elf and her possible connection to Draco's dream, but decided to talk about it later. Ron followed him upstairs, mumbling under his breath about how his worst nightmare involved Snape turning into a spider and eating him alive. He snorted, but made no other comment.

Approaching Draco's room, he wondered if Ron was going to follow him in, but didn't have to ask as the ginger haired boy excused himself, stating that he'd rather not be around in case one of Draco's nightmares started up. Walking through the door, Harry found Sirius holding one of Draco's hands while Hermione was nowhere to be found. The young damaged boy was sweating heavily and clutching at the sheet beneath him; his dark marred eyes were half open, so Harry assumed he wasn't having a nightmare.

Sirius glanced up anxiously, frowning slightly that it was only Harry. "The healer is here," Harry told him, glancing behind to see the tall, slim form of a woman holding a bag follow Remus upstairs. Sirius nodded thankfully and then turned back to Draco.

"It hurts," Draco mumbled, letting out a shaking breath and then sucking it in quickly. "Dad," he whimpered, clenching his eyes shut. "Why does it hurt? I'm awake, I'm awake," he cried, his feet digging into the bed. "Aren't I?" he asked, his eyes running around the room searchingly.

Harry sat down where Hermione had been, placing the bowl of water and the cloths down. "Yeah, Draco, you're awake," he told him when Sirius seemed too choked up to say anything.

Draco's eyes settled on him for a moment, looking confused and unsure before he finally nodded and turned to his father. He swallowed in a fashion that looked quite painful and then shook his head. "Did you see her?" he asked him, staring at his father with a cross of fear and hope. "Dad, did you see her?"

"See who?" Sirius croaked, running his free hand down his face and looking at his son with blood shot eyes. His concern was etched in every line of his face; Harry couldn't help but think he'd never looked so old. Even worse than when he had been standing in rags and looking like he'd passed insanity years before when he came to kill Wormtail in the Shrieking Shack.

"Mum," Draco breathed, nodding. "She was there. She was there. I saw her. She was... Her face... And the blood... The skin, it was... I can't help her... I can't help her, dad..." he ranted, sounding delirious and scared.

People were speaking just outside the door which Harry knew to be the healer and Remus, he wondered what they were talking about and why she hadn't come in yet. Finally, they stepped inside and the woman approached the bed, waving for Harry to move. Frowning but knowing it was needed, Harry rose and walked over to stand beside Remus, his arms crossed. He stifled the weird need to be near Draco and Sirius, feeling as if he shouldn't be leaving them at all. Like he had to be there to help Draco through and support Sirius. Shaking his head, he sighed. He wondered where Hermione had gone off to as he knew she had been unwilling to leave Draco before.

"Hullo," the healer said, glancing at Sirius with sharp, slate blue eyes and then turning her gaze down to the writhing Draco, "I am Healer Poulk and I have an extensive background in dealing with problems with the mind," she told them both, smiling briefly at Draco. "And how old are you young man?" she asked, leaning in close to him and sounding as if she was talking to a little boy.

"Old enough not to be spoken to that way," Harry replied for him, suddenly feeling as if he channeled Draco. He had only meant to think it, finding the women was treating him like a fussy child. But his mouth had opened and he had uttered the words with an unveiled expression of disdain for the woman. He had no idea why, but he just didn't like her.

Draco laughed, looking rather gleeful in his state before looking over at Harry with a half smirk, nodding slowly. "Oh you're not so bad Potter," he muttered, shaking his head back and forth and letting out a long, suffering sigh. "Did you see her?" he asked, suddenly. "If anyone else saw her, I bet it was you," he said, quietly.

Harry cleared his throat, "In Dizzy, right Draco?" he asked, cautiously, focusing only on him and ignoring the looks of Remus and Sirius. He wondered if it was really the right time to be bringing it up, but his curiosity got the best of him and he had to know if that's what caused Draco's problem earlier. If it was, then he had a small lead to helping his godbrother. He frowned, wondering when he really started to consider him as such and then questioned if it was pity or similarities that had him worrying.

"Yeah," he said, sounding relieved. "I knew _you_ would Potter," he told him, nodding. "Tell dad. Dad listen to Potter," he told him, his eyes turning downcast as his head rolled side to side. "Where's Hermione?" he asked, sounding sad. "She stops it. She stops it. I don't want to see it anymore," he told them, turning his head back. "Uncle Remus," he called, suddenly.

"Yes Draco," he asked, stepping forward and tugging at his hands.

"I don't want to go to sleep," he whispered, looking over at him, his face strained. "She's there. I don't want to see her, but then I do. I miss her. I miss her all the time. Why can't I have her here? Why'd she leave me?" he asked, tears slipping out the sides of his eyes.

Draco turned to Sirius, lifting their clutched hands. "Are you gonna leave me too?" he asked sadly, staring at him. "I'm sorry I don't know how many stars there are. I just want to go to the fair." He reared back, lifting their hands until they were pressing against his temple. "Please. I just want to go to the fair, dad." He closed his eyes, biting down on his lip and cringing.

"Never Draco," Sirius replied fiercely determined. "I'll never leave you," he promised, closing his eyes tightly.

Draco didn't reply, instead twisting around in his bed, his free hand coming up to cradle his head, every once in awhile, he'd press the heel of his palm against his eye, inhaling sharply through his teeth.

"How long has he been having these nightmares?" the healer asked, watching the interaction between him and the others carefully, a guarded expression on her face.

"I'm not sure," Sirius told her, shaking his head. "He doesn't talk about them, he only recently found out I know. And then shortly after he collapsed; passed out and had one right there in my arms," he said, quietly, his eyes turning away sadly. "When he woke up, he was paranoid and scared. He wouldn't let us near him and he wouldn't talk to us," he told her, sighing. "He... He stopped breathing and he just sat there... We didn't know what to do..." he trailed off, helplessly.

"Perhaps the best thing to do would be to let me see one of his nightmares in action," she told them, adjusting her white, horned classes and staring at him expectantly from beneath bushy, brown eyebrows.

Draco reared back from her, clutching at his father and practically crawling behind him. "Don't let her do it," he pleaded, shaking his head. "Dad, please, please, I can't watch it again. It'll take me," he said, his eyes darting around savagely. They landed between Harry and Remus, who was standing restlessly by the door, his face pinched with worry. "Don't make me sleep," he said, his voice quaking.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Remus burst out, nervously. He walked around the side of the bed. "Look, I realize you want to help, but you don't know Draco. He's... reserved, kind of secretive. If he's being this open, then he really, _really_," he stressed the word, his eyes wide, "doesn't want this to happen. Whatever he saw, whatever hurts him in there, I don't think--"

"I understand your hesitancy, Mr. Lupin," Healer Poulk interrupted. "But in order for me to help him, I need to see it for myself," she told them. "Alone," she specified.

Someone cleared their throat and the room turned to see Hermione standing with a book in her arms, she had her brow raised at the woman in front of her. "And what diagnosis do you believe will come from your seeing him in one of his nightmares?" she asked, stepping forward and sitting down on the bed. She looked back at Draco, nodding slowly at him, a reassuring smile present on her face.

Harry watched as Draco relaxed slightly against his father, moving back until he was sitting in his bed, his back against the headboard and his eyes staring out half closed. His hand was still clutching Sirius' though, which looked like it more of reassured Sirius than Draco. Remus stared at his nephew, hardly containing his concern as he shifted back and forth on his feet, running a hand through his hair and resting the other on his side, pushing up his coat.

Poulk didn't appear to be very amused by being questioned by Hermione, but she answered anyway. "It would help establish just what level his nightmares were on. I could monitor speech, body movements, pain, brain activity," she listed, staring at Hermione with a look of superiority.

"Three of the men in this room could tell you exactly how much he moved, what he said, how much pain he appeared to be in. And if you were given access to the run tests, you don't actually have to be in the room. There are charms and spells used so you could record the activity on your wand and then have it scanned on to parchment," she replied, glaring. "Even if you wanted to see it for yourself, there is no reason for it to be alone. It's obvious that Draco doesn't want to have another nightmare. To leave him alone with someone he doesn't know or trust could further damage him," she said, her tone sharp.

Poulk sniffed, shaking her head. "I'm only offering my _professional_ opinion," she said, lifting her brow condescendingly.

"Well, why don't you discuss the matter with his father and uncle for a moment while I attend to his fever," Hermione responded fiercely. "Since you work only with matters such as the mind, I'm sure I can help him come down from the tremors and delirium he's suffering from." Standing up, she shooed the healer away, a scowl present on her usually smiling mouth.

Harry stifled the laugh by clenching his jaw and clearing his throat. He looked away from the healer who had turned her annoyed glance at him. Instead, focusing on how Draco seemed to be smirking as he listened. He seemed a little more like himself now that Hermione was there, instead of the confused and ranting boy he had been.

"There's the smart Granger," Draco mumbled, reaching out to take her hand as she sat down beside him. "I don't think she likes me," he stage whispered to her, glancing coldly at the healer. "D'you have my book?" he asked, quietly.

Hermione nodded, her free hand dipping a cloth into the bowl of water beside her. "Lay down," she told him and he listened, sighing as he did so. "Draco, can you tell me what happened in your nightmare?" she asked, ringing out the towel and dabbing it against his forehead.

He shook his head at her, staring up through glazed over eyes. "It hurts," he told her, frowning. "Hurts to talk about them, to think about them. I don't want to have them anymore," he said, restlessly.

For some reason, Harry wasn't surprised to hear Draco open up to her. It seemed to him, at least, that Draco was more comfortable around Hermione. He had no idea why, perhaps that she was a female, though that sounded rather sexist. It made sense though, Draco being able to talk to someone such as Hermione rather than the father he had troubles connecting to. There were still too many problems between them, too many unresolved issues. Whereas with Hermione, who was an understanding female, willing to listen without making fun of him, Draco would have an easier time. Plus, Draco's thoughts of her being a 'mudblood' probably had more to do with the facade he was preserving rather than himself. He did seem to be a lot less rude to her than Harry or Ron.

Hermione nodded, looking over at Sirius and Remus who had yet to leave with the healer. They listened quietly, their expressions telling of how worried they were that they had caused this by making him speak. Hermione ran the cloth over Draco's face and down his neck, smiling as he sighed. "Can you tell me why you think you passed out?" she questioned, her voice gentle.

"I'm not allowed to discuss her," he said, softly. "Gives me headaches," he explained, nodding. "My eyes hurt and my head was spinning. Potter was there," he told her, nodding. "Potter saw her," he added, sighing.

Everybody glanced once again at Harry, who ignored them, feeling it was best not to explain that he hadn't seen what Draco saw, but knew that he had seen something. He didn't want to reveal anything just yet either. As soon as he could, he was going to start unraveling whatever there was behind Dizzy. Even if it was a dead end, he wanted to be sure, just in case.

"Does it hurt to talk about her right now?" she asked, resting the damp cloth on his forehead and smoothing his bangs away, her fingers lingering longer than needed.

"No," he said, sounding surprised himself. "Y'know what I think?" he asked, trying to sound conspiratorial.

"What?" she asked, leaning in to accommodate his actions.

"I think-- Hey," he interrupted himself, staring at her curiously. "Did you know you have freckles on your nose?" he asked, tipping his head to one side and then looking away, completely forgetting what he was talking about. "Dad," he called, as if his father was far away when really he was sitting right beside him.

"Yes Draco," Sirius replied, turning to him.

"Dad, Hermione has freckles on her nose," he told him, nodding. "I thought you should know," he said, winking tiredly. "Since you have expectations for me to date her," he explained in a stage whisper.

Clearing his throat, Sirius ran a hand over his face, trying not to laugh and nearly smiling. "Thank you for sharing, son."

Nodding, Draco leaned back, a faint look of content on his face. "Dad," he said again, his eyes slowly closing.

"Yeah," he wondered, leaning in close as Draco began to relax into the bed.

He paused and Harry wasn't sure if he was going to say anything, but then he said something surprising. "Have I ever told you I love you?" Draco asked, faintly.

Harry was sure the majority of the room, sans perhaps the healer, gasped at the question. Even he had realized he had made the surprised gesture. He listened intently, finding that he really hoped Sirius got his wish, that he would know his son cared for him. He always seemed to be doubting it. About as much as Harry doubted that he was cared for, really. Which made him upset; he still had that issue to sort out.

Sirius choked up, closing his eyes and frowning deeply. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, son, you haven't."

"Oh," Draco said, opening his eyes a crack. "I do you know. A lot. You and mum," he said, nodding. A smile dawned on his face as he sighed, looking up at Sirius.

Harry had to admit, when he really smile, it truly was his mother's smile. He glanced at Hermione, who was wiping away tears; she looked genuinely happy that it had been said.

"I don't hate you," Draco told his father, shaking his head. "I thought I did for awhile, when you forgot about me..." he admitted, quietly.

"Draco," Sirius said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

His smile faded away, replaced with a grimace as he didn't hear his father morosely trying to reach out to him. "She hurts me though. Will you tell her to stop? I told her," he said, quietly, his voice beginning to shake again. "I have, but she won't stop. She can't. He took something. He took it and I have to save her." Letting out a shuddering breath, he nodded. "To save me, I have to save her. But I can't. I can't save her. I'm sorry, dad, I'm sorry," he cried, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his jaw.

Sirius stared down stunned, his mouth unable to form words.

Harry stepped closer, letting his arms fall as his brow furrowed. "Who is he, Draco? What did he take?" he asked, hoping for some kind of insight.

"She won't tell me," he whispered, his eyes fluttering. "Granger," he whispered.

She leaned in close to him, squeezing his hand for him to go on.

"Will you stay with me while the mean lady watches my nightmare?" he asked, softly, sounding so unbelievably innocent. "I don't want dad to suffer anymore," he told her.

"Yes, Draco, I'll stay," she agreed, running her knuckles over his cheek.

"If I count all your freckles, can we go to the fair?" he asked, letting out a soft sigh before his body relaxed completely and his breathing shallowed out.

Sirius sighed, patting his son's hand and standing up from the bed. He glanced at Remus then down to his son, before finally looking at the healer, unsure. Nodding, he fled from the room, leaving her to watch his progress. Hermione rose from the bed, moving to a chair on the side so that he was left to battle it without interruption, allowing the healer to judge him properly. Harry stood rigidly, feeling the need to stay but knowing he wasn't going to be allowed to. Remus tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the room. He watched the door shut, the rude healer wore a triumphant smirk on her face.

Harry watched the two slumped figures of Sirius and Remus walk down the stairs, before turning and walking down the hall to Ron's room. He was going to figure out what Dizzy had to do with Draco's nightmares if it was the last thing he did. Looking one last time at Draco's room, he flinched when he heard a dark sob come through the thick wood. Turning away, he opened Ron's door and walked in, throwing up a silencing charm so nobody would hear. At least he'd have a little mystery this summer, it was better than sitting around on the couch playing wizard's chess only to lose to Ron for the billionth time. Sighing, he resigned himself to the knowledge that nothing in his life was ever simple.

* * *

**A/N** _Hey! I'm really glad so many of you reviewed for the last chaper! Thank you all very much. I hope you enjoyed this one. The next chapter will be in Draco's POV. Please review, I'd love to know what you think. Thank you all for reading._

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	10. 10

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_WOW! This chapter was brilliant! It was so powerful and breath-taking, I just couldn't stop reading it. I love how you describe the smallest of things to the largest of things in such detail, but not too much that the entire chapter is filled with details and not what is happening. And I just love how Hermione waltzed in and took over. Oh and how she told Healer Poulk off. That was amazing. Hermione is so strong and loving, you portray her character exactly, if not better than in the published Harry Potter books. There's something behind Draco's nightmare's isn't there? The way he was screaming for Elly (which by the way, I love how you described her, I could imagine her, with her beautiful smile and her caramel coloured hair, being torn away from Draco), the dreams seem to be literally tearing him apart. Will he be okay, and will Hermione save him, be his angel? I guess I'll have to find out in the following chapters, which I cannot wait to read!_" - **_Zarroc_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter nine**: _DracoAngelofLight, spacesareoverrated, charmedsisters, bethygirl94, Summer, aperfectattitude, LBuccalo, lenarose, Hotkat144, bena24, devotedHPfan, Emily, Pam Briggs, Lily Hermione Potter, Caligirl-HPLVR (Jenn), Mari, geauxtigers06, mugglette, untamedspiral, Keither Serenity, **Shaggy37, frauleinangel, anie smiles, J.44, Nathy, mskiti (Melanie), cle be, Liyenette **_and_ especially_ **_Zarroc _**and_** galloping-goose** (Zeus!)_

_**A Family Affair**_

-**10**-

It had been three days since Draco had his episode in front of his father, Potter, and Weasley. He couldn't remember what had transpired afterward, though his father had said something involving a Healer, and even more confusing was his muttered reply about Granger and freckles. It seems the Healer had been brought in to watch his nightmare and then get back to him on some way to help. Unfortunately, she had left shortly after he had calmed from his second nightmare of the day and left promptly, saying nothing to anyone.

When Draco had woken up, he was greeted with a very hazy form of Granger's head, which he could only make out because of her hair. His vision was blurred and no matter how much he blinked it wouldn't clear. So his father decided that Draco Draco wouldn't be leaving his bed until he was feeling better. Remus, the traitor, had gone along with his father and put him on temporary bed rest.

Everything was hectic; he couldn't do anything without help. They brought him to the bathroom, though he managed after they got him there. They helped feed him his soup, though he often did quite well without their incessant need to do it for him. And they set his clothes out for him, because he absolutely wasn't about to let them see him naked. Mostly because his father would see a few scars that needed to be kept quiet as long as possible, and he simply wasn't comfortable sharing that yet. It was beyond dreadful for him.

He remembered horribly the time he wanted to shower, which involved his father standing at the door, calling out, "_Are you okay_?" every five bloody minutes. It about drove him mad to answer, "_Fine! Now go away!"_ right back without screaming. There was even a moment where he hit his toe on the bottom of sink counter climbing out of the shower and he was almost certain that the locking charm he placed on the door wouldn't hold when Sirius rammed the door. He was luckily able to yell, "_Stubbed toe! Stubbed toe! I'm fine!_" before Sirius could do any real damage. He dearly hoped that things would be cleared up soon, because he did **not** want to try another shower episode, even though he really felt like he needed one.

But the worst part of it all was that he couldn't even read to try and figure his own way out of his problem. Well that and the fact that Potter and Weasley had both seen him in a wretched state. Ever since that night his nightmares hadn't diffused any. They were still painful and hard to cope with. Being left in his room to do nothing but wish he could see left him restless and he'd often find himself drifting off into a sleep that had him writhing in pain.

He did have constant visitors though, which included his father, uncle, Granger, and on occasion Mrs. Weasley. She'd often bustle around his room, rearranging things, cleaning, bringing him food, and tittering on about her family and such things. She was a surprisingly warm presence; the only problem he had with her was that she was a constant reminder that he didn't have a mother. Which often left him in a foul mood and his tongue tended to lash out at everyone who visited after her.

Potter and Weasley never set foot in his room, though Draco had a sort of confusing thought ringing around in his head that Potter had been worried about him. He figured it had something to do with what he couldn't remember during what his father dubbed his, "Delusional Moment." Draco suspected he may have said things he shouldn't have, or at least wouldn't have, had he been more attentive. He couldn't take it back though and it seemed at least his father had found it to be a good time. Though Draco knew from Granger that Sirius had been a complete mess, never leaving his side until the Healer forced him out, and constantly scared for him, he seemed to be on a lighter cloud for some reason. Be it because he hoped the Healer was coming up with a cure or not, Draco didn't know. But it was unnerving.

Currently, he was laying prone on his bed, his eyes staring unseeing at the roof. They had been the exact same for every day he had been there and he was seriously starting to worry that it would never change. He wondered what it would be like if he were nearly blind for the rest of his life. Were there spells to help him read? Would his magic be useless without sight to know where he was aiming? Would he forever be stuck in a bed?

Granger said, in her bossy know-it-all way, that while she had been reading a book, she found the reason for his symptoms, which she decided were: easily irritated, always tired, partial loss of sight, huge loss of appetite, constant headaches, and a juggling between chills and hot flashes. He remembered with a mild smirk when she had cleared her throat and began telling him the exact words she had read.

"O_ften, a person who has suffered through severe bodily harm due to emotionally and physically damning nightmares, will suffer further problems while awake. Due to prolonged issues of the mind, some Healers believe that when a patient ages their problem eventually forces them into a number of possibilities. Those being death, insanity, an existence of sheer fear at every turn and other such hopeless futures._

_  
"Many signs mark that a person has suffered too much and is slowly losing their ability to cope. They begin to show dire signs of restlessness, irritability, loss of vital actions; such as movement, sight, hearing, appetite, etc._

"_In 1738, Paul Plattiforcue had been ignoring his constant nightmares since he was but a child. He refused to see any Healers, against the wishes of his parents and later his wife. It finally came to a head with his body shutting down on him until he was left as nothing more but a pile of limp limbs. His wife stated that it started with him avoiding sleep at all costs and escalated to his slowing in his eating habits until he was forced to eat at least a bowl of broth each day. His hearing went soon after and then his sight blurred until he could no longer see at all. The end came when his body stopped being able to move. He couldn't speak, twitch, hiccup or breathe without a charm. Eating was a whole other problem. Needless to say, Paul Plattiforcue died shortly after since there was no way to keep him alive with him unable to do anything at all._

"_The reasoning behind the nightmare is extremely important in finding a solution to the problem the patient is facing. Without due help, such person will inevitably die."_

After that cheery note, Draco had rolled his eyes and made a motion with his index finger as if to say, "Whoo hoo," in a sarcastic manner. She sighed, telling him she was sorry that it hadn't helped his mood. He found she was the only one he didn't snap at when she came to visit and had to question why that was. When Remus or his father dropped in, he gladly said anything snarky that came to his mind. He kept his tongue on a leash when Mrs. Weasley dropped in though, hardly saying a word to her, simply letting her prattle on like she wished.

Hearing the creak of the door, he waited for whoever it was to announce themselves. When he heard soft footsteps but nobody alerted him of their presence, he cleared his throat rather haughtily. He didn't appreciate being treated as if his opinion didn't matter in regards to their visit simply because he couldn't see them. "Can I help you?" he asked, his tone rather sharp.

"Its is Dizzy Master Draco," she called to him, and he wondered briefly about the odd sensation that clenched his body without reason. "Dizzy is here to helps you."

"Help me with what?" he asked, moving onto his side and searching for anything that might distinguish her from the other furniture in the room. "Where are you?" he asked, frustrated, his hand reaching out aimlessly, trying to find her.

"Master Draco is very sick. Dizzy tried to warn you," she said with a sigh. He heard her footsteps as she continued to traipse around his room. When he heard a scuffle near his end table, he turned quickly, knowing that she was beside his picture of his mom. "Shes is beautiful," she told him, sounding rather wistful, though he questioned her reason for such feeling.

"Yes, she is," he replied, his throat tightening and a throbbing at his temples telling of the headache that had caught up once again.

"Dizzy thinks Master Draco should talk to father about Elly. Then Draco would not hurt," she said, and a noise sounded as if she had lifted the picture from its place, something not even his father had done, out of respect.

"I-- I can't," he told her, wondering why it was she felt she was able to do such things, when house elves are firmly told never to touch anything unless asked. Not to mention the fact that she was speaking to him quite freely, which he would feel good about had he not felt a sharp pain in his head for a reason he couldn't explain.

"Dizzy think..." she said, with a long sigh, "that it better to hurt now until everything is said, than hurt for long time... until Master Draco is... gone," she told him, making a sad noise.

"I'm not going to die, Diz," he replied, shaking his head. "This is temporary. I've been going through it for a long time now and I've been fine." Waving his hand over his head, he shrugged. "This'll pass." While she spoke, his headache increased, to the point where he was squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing. "Has anybody heard from that Healer?" he asked, hoping to get off the subject of dying and on to recovery.

"No, Dizzy has searched for her when Master Sirius and Remus did not need Dizzy. And Dizzy cannot find Healer anywhere," she replied, her voice sounding just the tiniest bit suspicious.

"What d'you mean you can't find her? She'd be at St. Mungo's wouldn't she?" he asked, annoyance ringing rather loudly in his voice. "Did you ask Remus where he found her?" he wondered, tipping his chin up and running his hands over his aching head.

"Yes, Dizzy ask Remus and he said he went to private business to find Specialist. Healer Poulk first office he go to, so he asked her to come help you," she explained, hurriedly.

"Well did you go to her office?" Draco asked, impatient and feeling a little worried.

"Yes. Office was empty," she said, her voice shaking. "Healer pack up everything and leave. She no anywhere. Dizzy look all over and can't find her. Dizzy ask around and talk to other house elf's, they all cower and say they cannot speak of her. Dizzy is suspicious of Healer," she told him firmly.

Draco felt sweat break out over his body, another hot flash, but he nodded, ignoring his body's reaction and trying to focus on her words. "Have you..." Swallowing painfully, he lolled his head toward her, "Have you told anybody else this?" he asked.

"No," she replied, and he felt the bed move just barely when she hopped up to sit beside him. Once again, she was showing the characteristics of someone who hadn't been under slavery their whole life. "But don't worry, Dizzy will figure it out on her own. Master Draco must sleep now. Dizzy know he doesn't want to, but he must," she said with a sigh.

"No, Dizzy you have to... you have to tell my dad. He needs to know... the Healer... she could've... Please, tell them," he barely managed to say, his body tightening around him painfully. Sweat fell into his eyes, stinging them, and tears bean to fill from the pain mixed with his worry over just what the Healer's purpose had been coming to see him.

Dizzy reached out, brushing his bangs off his forehead and for one absurd moment, it didn't feel dry and knobby, but instead soft and human. And his eyes cleared, though he blamed it on his mind, because as he stared up, he saw his mother's smiling face, her mouth moving in a whisper. He could hear, very faintly, the melody of a tune he knew quite well, but he had no idea where it was coming from. As the sound increased in his ears, reality slipped away from his eyes. "No..." he whispered sadly, before his body began to relax until he was fast asleep, something he always hated.

_There was a chirping in the midst of quiet, distant and radiating life. It always felt so overwhelming to have his sight back to perfectly, to see every thing so brilliantly. He found himself standing in a field of long green grass, such a heavenly colour that reminded him so much of Slytherin. There was a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that his mum was a Slytherin too, but he blocked it out. If he didn't think of her, perhaps she wouldn't visit him again. While he loved the beginning, where he could see her so vividly, the end left little to be desired._

_A cool breeze blew past him, rustling the grass and making it brush his palms as they hung by his long legs. He could hear the rush of water rippling over rocks and slopes in the distance. He wanted to go to it, but he felt himself being pulled in a different direction. Nature was not where he was supposed to be focusing, but the death and destruction wanted him. His feet moved against his will, while he was simply a puppet to the nightmare he had fallen in._

_He found her crouched in the grass, a long white dress wrapped around her. She was huddled on the ground, her arms wrapped around her legs. "Don't touch me, my darling boy. It'll only cause your suffering," she told him, not needing to look to know his hand was reaching out to her._

"_When will this all stop, mum?" he asked, backing up ever so slightly, giving her room to rise from the ground._

"_Do you want it to?" she asked, turning slowly to gaze at him with soft, tear ridden eyes. "As much as I hate hurting you, your help is what I need. And all the same, I wish not to get it, simply because I know when I do, I will never again visit you," she whispered. "Draco, my handsome son, the dreams you have, they hurt you dreadfully, I know. And I regret how selfish I am to hurt you like this. How I wish I could hold you. Hug all of this pain right out of you," she breathed, rising slowly to her feet._

_Her hands reached out, framing his face but never touching him. "When you were a baby, I need only hug you and your crying would cease," she told him. "And when I put you to bed, I only had to sing you my lullaby, and you would fall into a peaceful dream." She caught a strand of his hair and ran her fingertips over it while smiling warmly. "You were a beautiful baby, Draco. My beautiful baby." A tear fell down her cheek, leaving a cold, sad trail behind._

"_Do you hurt?" he asked, his hands twitching for the need to hug her, to know she was real. "I hurt. I always hurt, mum," he confided._

"_I know, sweetheart, I know." Her fingers reached out to his temples but drew back when just a hair's breath away. "I hurt too. It hurts to know that I've done this to you. It's all my fault, darling. All my fault," she murmured, her face falling with sadness._

"_No," he said, shaking his head vehemently. "No, it's Voldemort's fault. Lucius and Pettigrew's fault. But never yours, mum. Never yours," he said, strongly. His throat was burning with emotion and his eyes were becoming blurred with tears. Why was it he could be so honest with a woman who lived only in his dreams, but deny a man who desperately wanted to know how he felt, how he hurt?_

"_You must help us, Draco. To help yourself, you must help me. It's the only way, sweet child," she whispered, sighing heavily as she pressed her palms to his face. She stared into his eyes, her own red and rimmed with tears. "These nightmares, Draco, they hurt you more than you know. Please, my son, stop them. Don't let yourself go on like this. Get help Draco. Save us," she told him, her fingers brushing over his skin and wiping away his tears._

_She sighed shakily, sniffling. "You know I love you, don't you? You know I would do anything for you?" She nodded, her eyes running over his face searchingly. "Stop hiding it, my baby boy. Stop hiding your pain, your fear. Let them in. They'll help you, Draco. They'll help you. And God knows, we need their help." Her shoulders began to shake and her fingers dug into Draco's face._

"_Mum?" he called, his voice choked and hoarse. He wrapped his hands around her forearms, trying to pull her near him. "Don't leave me," he asked, his breathing picking up. "Please, don't go again. Fight it. For me, please. Fight it a little longer."_

"_I can't fight it, Draco," she told him, staring down at the ground and shaking her head. "Nobody can fight this. Not here." She looked up, staring at him pointedly. "But you can save us, darling. Focus your mind. Think, Draco. Use your cunning mind and you'll save us."_

"_I can't save you," he told her, his mouth quivering. "You're d-dead," he whispered, his tears pouring down his face._

"_In one way, my sweet," she said, smiling sadly. "Think." Her eyes widened as she stumbled away from him, her arms wide like a bird. Her mouth fell open and she let out a sobbing cry, before she bent her arms, her hands running over her stomach, clutching at it. "Save us Draco. Save us."_

"_Mum?" he asked, stepping forward only to be stopped by an invisible force. He couldn't move, he could hardly breathe. He simply had to watch, had to bare witness to her horrific pain._

_The sky changed, black billowing clouds fanning out over the sky. Lightning and thunder accompanied the distressing atmosphere. It began cracking everywhere and shaking the Earth with its loud cacophony; the rumble could be felt through Draco's every bone. The bolts of electricity snapped at the ground, beating at it with fury. It killed the nature around them, destroying trees and setting fire to the long green grass. The air became warm, almost stifling in its heat. Draco was panting, looking around with terrified wide eyes and wishing he could reach for his mother._

_Her head lolled back and her shoulders quaked with agony. Her fingers dug into her stomach as her arms shook with tremors. Her chin came down and she stared at Draco levelly, her gaze desperate but adoring. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Tears fell from her eyes, rolling over her pale cheeks and falling to the ground below them._

_Suddenly, fire roared around her. It burst from her stomach, eating away at her. She screamed, her voice loud and riddled with terror. The fire burned straight through her middle, a black smoke rose up from her and reached Draco's nose. The smell was stomach turning; burnt, searing flesh. He was forced to watch the rest of her succumb to the flames, her body slowly piecing away to the burning fire._

_Some of her fell from her body, a rib covered in her flaming flesh hit the ground only to roar up and disintegrate. Her fingers fell off, knuckle by knuckle, the bones red and dripping. She stared down at them in horror, her eyes scanning her body with terror. She sobbed, crying out for help from anyone, anything, but it never came. It never does. _

_The fire caught her honey hair, lighting it up and burning it away before Draco could take in a full breath. It caught the skin of her skull, burned it away and left her with a black and red mess. She screamed, her voice piercing through the cries of natures thunder. Blood poured out of her mouth, gushing and covering her shaking chin._

_He watched as her face began to melt, as her skin became charred and dark grey, burning to the muscle, blood seared black, and then down to the bone. She let out one last agonized scream before her body was struck with a bolt of vicious lighting. It seemed to wrap around her shaking, bloody burnt body, until it looked like a gnarled hand reaching out to destroy her. Finally, she she exploded into nothing but a burst of dark smoke._

_Her voice still carried on the wind, her scream rung in his ears with pained urgency. He felt his knees give out, whatever force that had been holding him let him go. His hands dug into the dirt, pulling up grass and rocks. His body shook while his mind began to blur with his own throbbing pain. His chest rose and fell with dramatic pace, he hardly felt like he was breathing at all. Just as the agony was taking him away, he heard her voice in his ears. "Save us, Draco."_

Startling awake, Draco found himself staring at Hermione Granger, who was looking down at him with serious concern. Her hands were around his biceps, holding him down on the bed, while her side seemed to be pinning his torso. The first thing that came to his mind was that he had to tell her something, that there was something important he had to remember but wasn't. "I-- And-- There's--" Growling, he shook his head, trying to clear it. "I can't remember. I can't... But..."

"The nightmare? You can't remember it?" she wondered, confused, shaking her head slowly in question.

"No, I remember that... Before... Before I fell asleep, something happened, but I can't..." He realized his hands were resting on her sides, over her ribs; he must've reached out for her when he woke. Forcing himself to relax, he laid back on the bed, closing his eyes and taking deep, calming breaths. "Where's Sirius?" he asked, his blurred eyes staring at the brown curls that were all he was able to make out.

"He's downstairs. A parcel arrived by owl, from that Healer who hasn't got back to us. I think there's something in it to help you," she told him. She was sitting rather closely, half leaning over him as if inspecting him for injuries or something of equal problem.

"What are you doing up here?" he wondered, squirming a little at thinking she was looking him over.

"Well, I heard your... I mean, you were..." she trailed off, apparently unsure how to tell him that she had heard his screaming.

"Does it scare you?" he asked, before he could think it through.

There was a pause before, "Scare me?" she repeated, her voice sort of incredulous. "Well, I mean the first time, yes, it was... It was loud and agonized, it was hard not to be a little afraid. But after that, no. I was worried about how you were, I mean anybody who was screaming like that had to be going through pain. All Sirius told us were that the nightmares had to do with your mother. I guess he doesn't really know anything else," she rambled, though she sounded fairly comfortable in his presence.

His temples began to throb, the first sign that he should change the subject. But for some reason, he didn't. "Have you ever had nightmares, Granger?" he asked, falling just slightly into his mask of indifference.

"Yes of course," she replied, nodding vigorously.

Sighing, he moved his arms so they were crossed beneath his head, atop the thick white pillow. He hoped that perhaps the leverage would alleviate some of the pressure building in his eyes. "What were they about?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Monsters coming to get me, bugs everywhere, and I had a recurring nightmare after I started at Hogwarts of waking up and finding myself flying on a broom. That one was always the worst," she said, sighing. He was pretty sure she shuddered too, because the bed shook a little.

"Have you ever had any that involve your parents?" he questioned, keeping his voice purposefully steady. His felt his muscles begin to spasm, and questioned just why speaking of his nightmares had such a horrible affect on him. Certainly it wasn't normal! It couldn't be a regular occurrence for all those who've had nightmares before. Why was it just him who had to suffer?

"Not really, no. Sometimes they were there, but they were never being hurt or anything. It mostly centered around me and my fears," she replied, shaking her head and sounding curious. "Is Sirius ever in your nightmares?" she wondered, and he was almost certain that she was biting her lip, worried that she over stepped her boundaries.

"No, never," he replied, quickly, clearing his throat. "It's only ever me and her."

"D'you want to talk about them?" she asked, her voice gentle and coaxing.

There was a ringing in his head, as if an alarm was sounding. It was so loud it covered every other sound around him. He felt his chest heave and his body tighten in response to her question. His eyes blurred even more and sweat began to break out on his skin. Clenching his jaw, he shook his head, telling his mind to focus on something else. _Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch_, he repeated like a mantra.

Apparently he was speaking out loud because Granger suddenly, "Uh, did you know that Harry bought tickets for the first Puddlemere United game? Yes, he's invited everyone here," she told him, hurriedly. "D'you like Puddlemere? Oliver Wood is on their team, y'know!" Her voice was rather frantic, hopeful and trying very hard.

"Yes, yes," he said, nodding vigorously. "Uh, Puddlemere is okay. Don't really care for them. Never much liked Wood. Good captain though, real good. Hard on his players, but he g-gets the job done!" he said, his voice throaty. "P-people said I was a bit of a f-fanatic like him last year, because I had such a hard schedule for my team," he bit out, hoarsely.

The throbbing began to lessen and his eyes cleared just enough to bring him back to a blurry mess. His body was twitching but slowly relaxing to how it had been before. It was already suffering through aches and pains from his nightmares. All of his trembling left him twitchy and feeling as if he was on edge. His breathing slowed to normal, with a few hiccups here and there. "Thanks," he muttered, half hoping she didn't hear him.

"Welcome," she replied quietly. "I didn't mean to... I'm sorry," she apologized softly. "I just thought... The symptoms aren't lessening Draco and if something doesn't happen soon, well..." she trailed off, unsure.

"I'm sure you'll find a cure, Granger," he told her, shifting in his bed and resting an arm over his eyes. "Smartest witch of her age, you must be on to something in all those books," he said, knowing that he sounded rather hopeful but dearly praying that she didn't notice it.

"Oh, of course," she said, and he immediately knew she was lying. "I'm sure I'll find something soon. Something that will at least bring your eye sight back," she assured, false cheer in her tone.

"Right, yeah," Draco said, nodding. Changing the subject, he swallowed his worry. "So where are Potter and the Weasel?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"I'm not sure," she said, and he was almost certain that her brow was furrowed. "They haven't been around lately. I keep trying to talk to them, but they always make an excuse. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were on one of their little adventures without me. They've been talking in whispers and... well, watching Dizzy a lot, oddly enough. Every time I ask though, they just brush me off. It's really quite irritating."

"Hmm," he mumbled, his eyes thinning with thought. The small house elf being brought up had an odd effect on him. He could feel something niggling at his mind but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"I bet you're tired," she said, suddenly, hurrying to stand up. "I shouldn't be in here bothering you. I just thought, I mean... I didn't mean to..."

"To what?" he asked, slightly amused. "Were you not here I'd be staring at the ceiling and twiddling my thumbs. It isn't as if I'm living a life of luxury at the moment. I don't think the nightmares are killing me, it's sheer boredom." He meant for it to sound easy going but it came out mildly bitter.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm here?" she asked curiously, though she sounded a little worried that she had overstayed her welcome around him.

"You're the only one who doesn't pretend nothing is wrong," he replied, shrugging. "Sirius and Remus talk about things, but they never broach the subject like I know they want to. Mrs. Weasley cleans, feeds, and talks, but she hasn't once told me anything about nightmares or how she dealt with them in her own children. Every once in a while she'll say I'm looking better though; I think she's lying, but whatever."

Leaning his head up, he cocked his brow, "Am I, Granger? Have I got my colour back?" he queried, running his hands over his face for dramatic emphasis. "Are my handsome good looks draining back into me? Must be terribly hard for you to sit still in a room with me and this fantastic mug of mine," he said, using his forced arrogance to cover his annoyance at the lack of visitors who treat him like himself.

"They're just worried is all," she replied, quietly, focusing on the real problem and not allowing him to pretend. He rather admired that about her. "I've heard Sirius and Remus talking, they're worried and they've been discussing alternate ways of help. Sirius wants to bring you to St. Mungo's, but Remus keeps saying that if you're brought in you won't be returning home at any time. What with everything that transpired between you and Dumbledore, you'll be taken into custody. Unless of course your being taken care of there gets loose, then there could be even bigger problems. Voldemort or Snape could come for you," she explained honestly.

"Why haven't they talked to me about it? I'm blind not deaf," he muttered, coldly.

"They don't want to worry you," she said softly. "It's very hard on them, Draco."

"Hard on them?" He gave a loud derisive laugh.

He simply couldn't take it any longer. It had boiled into one huge slap in the face. He wanted to scream, to cry, to beat the shite out of something. He didn't deserve this. He never deserved anything that happened to him. He had paid his dues, he worked hard to get where he was. He sacrificed everything to get vengeance. And what has it got him? A dead mother, a father who only cares when he has time, a total of two real friends, and a fake family that cared nothing for him. He gets stuck with nightmares that are killing him, no real way to kill Voldemort, and a shield so thick, he can never let anyone he cares about in. He lost his innocence, his childhood, any possible chance at being normal, and for what? A vendetta that will never be filled, because he will either be dead, or only watching as Potter does it for him. And even then it would probably be through blurry bloody eyes!

"It's hard on me!" he shouted, letting it out even though it shouldn't be directed at her. "I'm the one stuck in a bloody bed 24/7, I'm the one who can't see. I'm the one who has to suffer through those bloody nightmares every single time I close my eyes," he yelled, shaking his head vigorously and ignoring the increasing pain that flared up in his mind with a vengeance.

"They don't know how it feels. They don't know what it's like to see her dying. To see her falling apart, literally. To see her blood pouring from her fucking body like a waterfall. They've never seen their mother go up in flames or melt away before their eyes. Have you? No!" he bellowed thickly.

His breathing increased to a ragged point, one where he was barely getting air in any more. "They don't have to hear her pleading," he said, his voice choked and low. "Begging for help, for me to save her. With her body shaking, tears falling and blood erupting from her mouth. And she just keeps saying it, over and over. Telling me that I'm the only who can save us. But I can't," he whispered, shaking his heavy head and swiping at the warm tears falling from his eyes furiously. "I can't save us."

He heard a sharp intake of breath, that he knew did not belong to Hermione. She had been crying quietly, one of her shaky hands had taken his. But when the inhale was heard, her hand tightened, startled. There were footsteps and suddenly the bed dipped on his other side. He turned a little, staring at the blurry figure and knowing it was his father.

Sirius cleared his throat, looking away from Draco for a moment, "Uh... A-- A package came," he told him, his voice low and quaking. "From Healer Poulk. There was a letter attached. D'you want me to read it to you?" he asked, quietly.

Struck once more by his father's need to pretend everything was fine, Draco didn't speak but instead nodded his head jerkily, sniffling covertly.

"_Mr. Lupin and company,_" he began, his voice strangled. _"I have gone over all the information I collected while checking over the young man I met three days prior. I ran diagnostic scans for his body and brain waves. Whatever he is going through is a very elaborate and painful sequence. Over the years it has wreaked havoc on his immune system and caused outward signs of distress. I found numerous traces of glamor charms that he must've been using throughout the years to hide the deterioration of his health,_" Sirius read in a thick tone, the paper rattled with his shaking hands.

Draco kept his mouth shut, knowing that he had been using charms since he was eleven. Narcissa used to do them for him, to keep Lucius from commenting, or the public when they visited. But he had to make do at Hogwarts, and walking around looking like the living dead was simply bad for the reputation of a Malfoy, even if he was a faux-Malfoy. They had stopped working recently though, or at least lessened in their strength to hide his appearance. He couldn't imagine how bad he looked now.

"_In my professional opinion, he has suffered from such nightmares since he was very young, perhaps before even he can remember. Judging by what he says while sleeping, I believe it has to do with a family member he saw die, which I deduced was his mother. Often this will manifest in young children and become hazardous to their health. Usually, it is dealt with quickly, as the parents notice something wrong and immediately have something done. I question why nobody found out about his problem until such a late time._"Sirius' voice came out in an angry breath near the end, as if he was beginning to question the same thing.

Draco preferred not to think of what happened whenever Lucius noticed he was having a nightmare. When he was younger, Lucius tended to be sometimes more vicious than the nightmares that plagued him. He learned quickly to hide them, with silencing charms and the like, just to keep from being beaten for something dubbed, 'childish and pathetic.'

"_I'm afraid that after such prolonged exposure, there is not much that can be done. I suggest an application of the following potion. One drop massaged into each temple, one placed beneath his tongue, and one behind each ear before he goes to sleep and after he wakes up for what is left of..._"Sirius shook his head, cutting himself off and taking a moment to silently collect himself. But Draco knew how to end the sentence, "for what is left of what little life he has."

Such words caused his body to numb, which felt rather nice, given how often he prayed for it instead of the searing pain he often endured. Death. So final, so lasting. He didn't know what to think, feel, or say. He always knew he would die. He just figured it wouldn't be until he had finished off Voldemort. That had been his plan. Nothing seemed to be following his set ideas for the future though.

Finally, Sirius managed to begin speaking again, "_It will get rid of all effects he is suffering from outwardly and lessen the pain he feels while sleeping. While he will no longer appear sick or feel as strongly ill, he will still have the problems on the inside. His mind will continue to deteriorate and his body will slowly break down until he can no longer move, eat, see, hear, or breathe on his own. The process has sped up over the years, and there is no telling how long it will be until the end_," Sirius rushed out.

Draco considered the words for a moment. He wouldn't look sick, which would help everyone else. He wouldn't feel as sick as he did now, which would lift his spirits. But in the end, all it did was put up all the appearances he had forced up as a shield over the years. Except this would have a very different ending. If he didn't have long, what was he supposed to do? Play Quidditch? Pretend to be happy? Ignore his thirst for vengeance against Voldemort? Not bloody likely.

Sirius inhaled heavily, letting it out in a wavering gasp before continuing. "_The bottle is charmed to automatically refill, therefore, you will not have to seek my services any longer. There is no other way, and I very strongly think it would be much worse for him to speak of what his nightmares entail in depth. It will only speed up the process. Best wishes, Healer or the mind, Sterlange Poulk_"

Draco heard the letter crumple, it sounded so much louder in the silent room. Granger's hand tightened around his almost painfully, but for some reason that was comforting. Clearing his throat, he nodded slowly. "All right, so let's try this potion," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky to them as it did to him.

"Draco--" his father said, his tone worried and unsure.

"No," he interrupted, firmly. "Let's just not talk... at all."

Sighing, Granger stood up, walking around the bed and taking something from Sirius' hands. She made her way back around, Draco followed her with his blurred eyes, and she sat down much closer to his head. "There's an eye dropper," she said, quietly. He could hear the shuffling of things and finally there was the pop of a cork. "Turn your head to Sirius," she told him softly.

Licking his lips, Draco followed the command and turned away, staring at the dark hunched form of his dad, who seemed to have his hands up covering his face. He felt the cold liquid splash against his temple and then Hermione's finger was massaging it gently, something that had a very calming affect on him. When her hand moved away, he took his cue to turn the other way, giving her access to his other temple. She did the same and he, for one moment, nearly felt like he could fall asleep, until he remembered what that would entail. She pulled back and he let his head sit up center on the pillow, he stared up at the roof, waiting for her to do something.

She leaned across him again, dropper in hand as she stared down at his mouth, "Open up," she said.

He stared at her a long moment, "You have freckles," he noted and a slow smile broke out over his face. "All across the bridge of your nose."

Sirius snickered, though it sounded sad. "Great, he's delirious again," he muttered.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I think the point was that he can see," she explained, sounding rather excited.

Draco briefly wondered what freckles had to do with delirium but then ignored it, to instead notice just how pretty Granger was. She stared at him with worried eyes, not pitying but concerned. They were an interesting shade of brown, very welcoming and warm. While her hair had looked like a great mess of frizzy curls in his blurred eyes, it now looked quite beautiful around her. Still tangled, but now it appeared rather wild and free; he liked that. Her face held an innocence to it, one filled with hope and trust. He bit his tongue before he began telling her any of those things though, knowing that was far too generous of the him he had let her see. Even if he had allowed her in some, perhaps more than he really should, he couldn't get too close.

"Now open your mouth," she commanded, still smiling brightly.

"Now, now, Granger, we may be in a bed, but you're moving a tad quick for me," he replied, his smirk returning.

Rolling her eyes, she smiled, seemingly happy that his previous attitude had returned some. She stared at him with an expression that he had to do as she said though, reminding him that she held the potion to his painless existence.

He complied, letting his jaw open and watching as she let a drop of the violet potion fall beneath his tongue. It was tangy, slightly hot, which surprised him since it had been cold on his temples. It seemed to explode into more than he had expected, covering his entire mouth and then rocketing down his throat without him having to swallow. He could feel it trailing into his organs, which scared him for a long moment, before it settled and he felt a pained cramping that told him he was hungry. His stomach gurgled, letting Granger and Sirius know of the development.

Finally she turned his head again, placing a drop behind his ear, which she massaged into his skin, leaving him to stare at his morose father beside him. He'd never seen Sirius look so old; he appeared nearly three times his age. Draco deduced his father hadn't slept much since the day he collapsed. He felt the urge in the back of his throat to tell him something reassuring, but nothing came. Then Hermione turned his head the other way, and he reminded himself not to be so open.

"How d'you feel?" she asked, after she placed the cork back in the small black bottle.

"Hungry, awake, and still very bored," he replied, letting a half smile appear.

"Hermione," Sirius called out. "Could you please give us a moment? Maybe go down and make him some soup, I don't imagine anything more would be good for his stomach so soon," he told her, quietly.

"Yes, right, no problem," she said, standing up from the bed. She sent Draco one last look, then smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Draco felt the quiet surround him, almost suffocating after so many days of it. His father sat beside him, bent over his knees like an old man with a bad back. His hands shielded his face, fingers tugging at the edge of his hair. His shoulders shook slightly, and Draco realized he was crying. "Is that what you see?" he asked, his voice hoarse and choked. "When you sleep? Is that really what you see?"

Draco stared at him a long moment, swallowing the painful build-up of emotion in his throat. "Yes," he managed to get out.

"All these years... all these years you were seeing her... like _that_," he murmured, shaking his head. "No wonder you didn't want to t-talk about it," he choked out, his fingers digging into his head and yanking at his hair. "What happened when they started Draco? Why didn't Lucius or Narcissa do anything to help you?" he questioned, sounding angry.

"They did _something_," he replied, vaguely. "They knew, and Lucius dealt with it how he saw _fit_," he said, bitterly. He almost immediately wished he had thought that one through. Usually his mind was more cunning, but the past few days had slowed him down and he hadn't realized he was saying too much until too late.

Sirius turned around and stared at him with wide, teary, and angry eyes. "What did he do?" he asked, his tone dark and demanding truth. "Tell me what he did," he said, his voice raising.

Draco's jaw clenched, he didn't want to share that part of his life. He considered it to be the time before he learned to be aloof and uncaring. It held too much emotion, too much pain. To speak of that would be to open Pandora's Box of all that created him to be the masked person he had become.

"Look at me," Sirius commanded, turning so he was facing Draco properly.

Draco tore his eyes away from the white of his sheets and looked at his father, hating that his eyes had begun to fill.

"I'm not going to be mad at you and I'm certainly not going to think less of you," his father said firmly. "If anything, I'm going to understand you better, care for you more, and plead with you to forgive me for not being there." Shaking his head, he reached out, placing a heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. "Please, Draco, don't hide it from me anymore. Just tell me about you. The real you. Everything you were and are. Tell me what he did, said, or what still haunts you. I'm listening and I'm not going to judge you," he told him, sounding sincere.

Draco let out the shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He felt a tear fall from his eyes and forced his hand not to wipe it away. "You're not going to like it," he warned.

"Tell me anyway," Sirius replied.

Draco stared searchingly at his father, trying to find some sign that he could trust him. The funny thing was, it was never a matter or trust. He had never questioned whether his father could be given the information, it was whether Draco could actually share it. He knew his father was there, would always be there, but everything in his past encouraged him to keep his mouth shut. So many times he had wanted to tell Sirius everything, and he was feeling all that over again. Life was short and he had no reason to believe he had much longer to go. Did he really want to die with all the failures, pains, and secrets he had kept inside so long?

"I was weak then," he began, making his decision.

* * *

**A/N** _Hey guys! Sorry this is so long in coming! I'm working on "**Growing**" too, so I've been going back and forth trying to get them ready for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Pay careful attention to certain parts in this chapter. I'm sure many of you are starting to unravel things. Please review, I love knowing what you all think._

_Thank you for reading,  
Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	11. 11

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_Things are really getting interesting. You mentioned in your authors notes that many of us are starting to unravel things. I for one have no idea. I am still in the dark so hopefully things come out soon. I really liked when Draco and Hermione were alone in the bedroom. It seems you are building up the feelings between the two instead of all of a sudden them being in love like in so many other stories. When he yelled at her I was happy because finally someone else got to understand what he was feeling. It's interesting the part about Dizzy. Could that be the part your referring to unraveling? I cant wait to see what happens. Update soon. xo_." - _**niic smiles**_ of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter ten**: _charmedsisters, bethygirl94, Liyenette, Aslan, untamedspiral, Lily Hermione Potter, Sam's Firefly, Hotkat144, angelrider93, **mskiti **(Melanie aka Tabi), **Zarroc, Shaggy37, Pam Briggs, niic smiles** _and _especially **annieca, Princess de la Plume, niic smiles** (x2, sorry about the mistake last chapter!) _and_** galloping-goose** (Zeus)._

_**A Family Affair**_

-**11**-

Since the day Draco had his episode in front of everyone, things had drastically changed. When he woke up after the Healer had left, he had various new problems. For the first day, Harry and Ron tailed Dizzy while Sirius, Remus, Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione attended to Draco. Harry could hear Draco's annoyed voice telling his father or uncle that he was fine, or he'd hear Sirius or Remus pretending as if things were normal and talking to him as if he weren't stuck on bed rest. Harry hardly ever saw Hermione that day, she was going in and out of the room, with soup or rags and water and her book bag always hung over her shoulder.

Harry had only stopped in to see how he was doing once and he was pretty sure Draco hadn't known he was there. He ended up standing at the door for a full ten minutes, simply fidgeting and wondering what he could do to help. Draco laid in bed, his arms propped behind his head as he stared at the roof absently, looking bored out of his mind.

Harry often wondered what he was doing, why he cared, for what reason was he following Dizzy's every action. And then he'd see Sirius' face, down and depressed, or Remus' lack of enthusiasm for anything and he'd remember that he had to help, because the people who mattered to him needed it. But most of all, it was when he heard Draco screaming out in pain, or he'd see Hermione renew the silencing charms on the room before she'd go back in hoping she could calm him somehow, that made him need to help. As much as he was sure he and Draco would never get along as godbrothers, he couldn't bear the thought of him being in such agony. It confused him and he had no way of figuring out the reasoning behind his compassion, he just fed it.

It was the middle of the second day of Draco's state and Harry found Sirius in the dining room, staring at the floor where he had held his son as he fought against his own mind to stop his suffering. Harry's godfather seemed to be in an unresponsive state, basically paying no attention to the world around him. He thought he would just make his way into the kitchen, spy on Dizzy a little and leave Sirius to himself, but apparently his godfather had known he was there.

"What have I done?" he asked, his voice strained and his shoulders slumping even farther.

"Er, well you were only trying to help," Harry replied, feeling out of his element and unsure of his words. For two days he had watched Remus and Sirius walk around as if it were all their fault. They heard Draco that afternoon before he fell into another nightmare; he said talking about them, about Elly, caused pain and they believed it was their pushing that threw him over the edge into what he was now.

"I should've... _known_ that whatever he was going through was too big to share. I had to bring in a Healer, Harry. Someone to try and _save_ my son because I had pushed him to talk about a part of his life that was tearing him to pieces," Sirius told him, his face was contorted with remorse as he lifted his shaky hands to run them through his hair.

"You wanted him to talk about it because you hoped you could help, not because you wanted him to hurt more. How could you know that asking him about his nightmares would cause so much stress that he passed out?" Harry reminded, shaking his head and walking forward. He felt a little scared, not sure how to take a damaged and worried Sirius, compared to the fun-loving, childish man he was used to.

"He didn't just pass out though. He was thrashing and screaming, crying and pained. He even stopped breathing," he said in a thick whisper. "I don't know what I'd do if..." he cut himself off, his chin shaking uncontrollably.

"He'll be fine," Harry told him, his tone confident. "Whatever it is, whatever is happening to him... There's got to be a reason, a way to stop it," he said, his mind whirring as he began to think things through. He was missing something; something huge.

"Stop," Sirius told him, suddenly rising from his chair and staring at Harry firmly, his eyes void of the mischief they used to hold. "Whatever you're doing Harry, just stop. I don't know what is happening to my son, but I don't want to risk it happening to you either."

He began walking to the door, but stopped, turning back to Harry. "He can't see y'know," he told him, quietly. "When he woke up, his sight was too blurred. And he gets these headaches that just tear at him. He's hardly eating, he's constantly getting mean with everyone. I know that doesn't sound different to you, his attitude, but... I think he knows... knows that whatever he's got, it's not just going to go away. And if it does, it's taking him with it." Before Harry could reply, Sirius had walked through the door, letting it swing closed behind him.

Harry turned to the door, shaking his head and sighing. "Sorry, I can't give up now," he replied softly. Directing himself toward the kitchen, he made his way in quietly, listening intently for the little house-elf that kept Grimmauld Place in good condition. Halfway through the kitchen he thought perhaps she was in a different part of the house and nearly gave up, until he heard her quiet voice speaking.

"Dizzy no want to. No! It hurt him. He hurt. You s'pose to love him, but you hurt him. Dizzy no do it anymore. He getting bad..." She spoke with an edge of sadness and fear.

Harry frowned when she began mumbling incoherently for a few moments before her words became understandable again. "Yes, Healer did something! No, no, no, girl was in room with him and Healer. Girl would not let Healer hurt him."

Harry strained his ears, kneeling down on the floor to keep himself hidden. He was sure that Dizzy was pacing and had the distinct urge to look around the corner of the counter in hopes of seeing if she was talking to herself or someone else.

"Dizzy will find Healer; she no good. Then Dizzy must tell Master Sirius about Draco and his--" Her feet began stomping as if she were desperately angry at herself. "Draco will not last unless he talk or we talk. Dizzy has tried telling Draco to, but he say no." She sighed, sounding resigned. "Yes, yes, yes. Dizzy will try again. It hurt him. It hurt bad." A loud noise sounded as if she had smashed her small fist into the counters. "NO! You say too much, you hurt his mind. You leave him alone for awhile. Dizzy not sure he can take so much."

When he heard footsteps approaching, Harry was forced to leave the room as quick as he could without being caught. He just barely made it through the swinging door to the dining room and then hurried into the front hall, turning to shut himself up in the study. He was breathing heavy and his heart was beating rapidly; he frowned at himself when he realized he had run away from a tiny little house-elf.

"Hello Harry," Hermione's voice called out, sounding rather confused. He looked over to see her glancing at him with a furrowed brow. She was surrounded by stacked books of all sizes, a large tome sat idly in her hands. "What brings you here?" she wondered.

It struck him rather odd in that moment and he felt more like she was visiting someone else rather than him. As if she weren't his guest but he had ventured into her domain. There was a weird wall of discomfort there for a moment and he couldn't understand why they felt so distant.

He knew he should probably tell her about Dizzy and what he'd heard, about how he and Ron had agreed that they were going to investigate the weird goings-on concerning Draco and the suspicious house-elf. But when he looked at her, deep into her research for whatever it was she was doing, he found the words clog in his throat. He had reason to believe they were concerned with the same person, but they had different ways of helping him, and he just couldn't tell her what he thought.

"Er, well, I haven't seen you in awhile, so I thought I'd come see what you're up to," he lied, but saw it as a possible way of getting information on what she was doing. Perhaps there was something in the books that would better explain Draco's condition. "Sirius told me Draco isn't doing well," he said, hoping she'd take it from there.

She looked up, her expression unreadable. "No, he's not," she replied, shaking her head stiffly. "His sight is waning, his appetite is all but gone, and he's been more than a little rude to Sirius and Remus. He seems to be holding it in quite well when it comes to Mrs. Weasley, but he's about ready to shout at her sometimes, so I hurry her out," she explained, shrugging noncommittally.

"You're spending a lot of time with him lately," Harry pointed out, crossing the room slowly and feeling his hands fidget uncomfortably at his sides. He felt awkward, out of place, and decided to let his eyes roam the stacks of books around her in hopes that he would find out something important.

She cleared her throat, her eyes falling to the tome in her hands. "Well, he doesn't snap at me as much as the others and I can get him to eat more than his uncle and father," she said, sounding defensive. "I just... I think I may be able to help," she finished rather quietly.

He stared at her a moment, watching as her brown eyes stared up at him with an expression of uncertainty, as if she was just waiting for him to yell at her that she was doing something wrong. "That's good," he replied, nodding quickly. "I mean, I'm sure the Healer will figure it out, but..." He may wear glasses, but he wasn't blind, so he definitely noticed the way her posture stiffened and her mouth curled in a sneer. "You don't think she will?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Closing the tome rather abruptly, Hermione looked up at him, her nose rising in the air as if she were about to tell him something of great importance that only someone who was heavily intelligent would know. "You saw her Harry, you heard her, did you feel like she was at all _qualified_ or even _interested_ in Draco's welfare?" she asked, her chin lifting defiantly. "I don't know what it is just yet, but that woman... Something's not right about her," she told him, shaking her head.

It was then he realized what book she had in her hands, the title was quite familiar as he had seen it laying on the couch after Draco had given up on civilized conversation with him and simply left. The last thing he had been doing before his fight with Sirius was reading, "**_The Terror of Dreams and the Remedies that will Save Your Life_**." He wanted to question why she had it, but she cut him off when his mouth opened.

"She looked rather excited, you know," she said to him, her mouth morphing into a scowl. "While he was thrashing and screaming, crying and writhing in pain. She looked... like she was _enjoying_ it," she told him, her voice shaking with anger. "What kind of Healer... no, what kind of _person_ could possibly find that to be entertaining?" she asked in a shocked breath.

"I... I don't know," Harry replied, shaking his head at the disturbing information. "Perhaps she wasn't excited like you said, but I don't know..." He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Her job is the mind, perhaps she was just fascinated with what was happening."

"No," Hermione said firmly. "No, I'm telling you Harry. She_ liked_ it. She enjoyed seeing him like that; in all that excruciating pain." She sounded so sure that it really left no room for doubt, which was simply terrifying.

Clearing his throat, Harry had no idea how to respond to her, so he instead focused on the book again. "Isn't that Draco's?" he asked, getting straight to the point rather than beating around it.

She looked up at him, startled for a moment. "Yes," she replied, nodding slowly. "Dizzy found it for him the other day and I was looking through it while everything was happening in the dining room." She lifted it, staring at it curiously. "It's very intriguing. The information it has, the knowledge about the mind and nightmares is quite fascinating. I don't know, I feel like it could really help. Much more than that Healer anyway," she said, sounding huffy.

"Hmm," Harry said, nodding slowly. "What have you found out?" he asked, his eyes looking off as if to play like he wasn't really all that interested. He worried that if he seemed too concerned she might question it and he thought she might laugh when he said he suspected the house-elf had done something to Draco. She was staring at him, he could feel it on the back of his neck. The little hairs rose with the attention he was getting but he continued to act as if he didn't know or care.

Finally, she sighed. "Various things. Most importantly it says that when a person is suffering from nightmares it is often very good to discuss them in depth. Meaning he'd have to say when they started, what's been happening, what he's done to deal with them. He'd have to discuss them in as much detail as he could. If they change every night or if he's just had different ones occasionally, then that'll be a little harder. But I think if he just talks about recent ones, those he can remember, it will be easier," she told him, nodding quickly and tapping her chin.

"There's also a potion that can be taken by numerous people so that they enter the dream with the person. Some Mind Healer's believe that were others to experience the nightmare with the patient, then said patient may not even have them anymore. They think that there's something in the dreams, like a message, and once others have seen it, they figure it out together. And because he no longer needs to know or hear whatever it is the nightmare is trying to tell him, he doesn't have them anymore," she told him, sounding mildly excited, before she sighed.

"But, Draco would _never_ allow anybody to come into his nightmares with him. I mean, he doesn't even want people seeing him while they happen, so he really wouldn't want anyone in with him," she told him, defeated.

"You're always there when he has his nightmares," Harry pointed out, frowning. He had to admit, Draco was the one she was spending all of her time with rather than him. Perhaps if she had been around Harry and Ron more she would've been included in their investigation, but she'd stayed clear of them the last few days. He had to wonder what her reason was for wanting Draco to get better, not that she was cold enough to wish he wouldn't. It just seemed like she was putting a lot of herself into keeping up his health and he didn't know why.

"Well," she said, shrugging and looking away, "I don't know... Sometimes..." she seemed to be struggling with how to tell him something, looking as if she wasn't sure she should say anything. "Sometimes, I can take his hand or even talk to him, and he calms down," she explained, her tone quiet, as if she almost didn't want him to hear. "There are even times where he can fall asleep and he won't have any nightmares at all," she said, a smile lighting up her features. "And other times it doesn't matter what I do, they take him away and shred him up into something that doesn't look anything like him," she admitted, morosely.

She lifted her hand then, staring down at her wrist watch before she hurried to stand up and stuff various books into her bag. "It's almost time for his soup and I promised him I'd read him a passage from, "_Heartbreak House_." I hope you find what it is you're looking for, Harry," she told him, walking past with her bag brimming. "Whatever that is," she added, before leaving the study.

Sighing, Harry's shoulder slumped, he shook it off and decided to go find Ron and tell him what he heard. Leaving the study, he climbed the stairs to walk past Draco's room just as Hermione was closing the door.

"Right on time," Draco's voice could be heard saying, sounding rather bored.

"Well, that would be the point of schedule," Hermione replied, her voice sounding somewhat amused.

"Schedule," he scoffed. "There wouldn't happen to be a set time as to when all of this fuss ends and I can return to being condescending and overbearing, is there?" he asked, with exaggerated hope.

Hermione sighed, "No. But don't worry, I'm sure it'll get better soon. I've been doing a lot of reading--"

"Surprise, surprise," he interrupted.

"Yes, and well I've found some good and bad news," she told him, and Harry was sure she was fidgeting.

"Well don't let me stop you from passing it on. Merlin knows I have nothing better to do," he responded, dryly.

"Must you always be so despondent?" she asked, sounding miffed.

"Must you always be so cheerful and hopeful?" he countered easily.

"Would you rather I come in telling you you'll die any day now if you don't get help? And that if you don't stop snapping at people they're all going to leave you alone to die by yourself?" she snapped, her annoyance getting the best of her.

It was silent for a moment and Harry was sure that Hermione had pushed it, but then Draco laughed and it was the most confusing thing Harry had ever witnessed. "My, Granger, it doesn't take much to get your knickers in a twist, does it?" he asked, amused.

Letting out an exasperated breath, she snickered. "Oh shut up," she told him, though she didn't sound angry any longer, more content to know he was in a better mood.

"Yeah, yeah, so tell me what you've found. I'm simply dying to know," he told her, his voice filled with exaggerated excitement.

"I've found the reason for your symptoms," she told him, triumphantly. "Which if you hadn't noticed are: hot flashes, chills, partial loss of sight, easily irritated, huge loss of appetite, never ending headaches and you're always tired."

"What a lovely list, go on," he replied, boredly.

Harry listened as Hermione spoke to him as if reading from a book, her usual bossy know-it-all tone coming in full force. She explained that it was a sign that he was losing control and was no longer able to cope with what he had been through. She even went as far as to speak about a man named Paul Plattiforcue, who had the same problems but ignored them and eventually died from it. It was all really quite depressing and Harry couldn't imagine how he would feel had he been told it would happen to him.

"Cheerful," Draco said, blandly.

Sighing, Hermione sounded vastly apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you in a worse mood."

"Oh so now I'm in a mood," he replied, sounding rather lighthearted.

Harry was surprised at how easily Draco and Hermione seemed to get along. Had anybody said what she had, he likely would've sent biting remarks at them until they were quivering in a corner, pleading to be left alone. Instead, he laughed it off and let her speak freely. He felt like he was intruding and decided he couldn't listen any longer.

Harry pulled away from the door, continuing on his way to Ron's room, knocking to let his best mate know he was there. "Come on in," Ron's voice bellowed.

Turning the handle, Harry walked in to find the room a disaster. They hadn't been there long but Ron had certainly made himself comfortable. There was a Chudley Cannon's poster sitting crooked on the wall and most of Ron's clothes were hanging out of the partially opened drawers of his dresser. "Eh Harry, do you know whose room this was before?" he asked, his voice muffled as he was behind a desk pulled out from the wall.

"Er no, why?" he asked, crossing the room to stand near him.

"Well, there's trap door down here... and... I think..." He kept interrupting himself and grunting as he leaned father behind the desk. "Yes! There's a chest hidden in it," he told him, before coming out and holding a dusty old locked box in his hands.

"How'd you find it?" Harry asked, interested.

"I spilled my box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans on the floor while I was writing to a friend and while I was pickin' 'em up, I saw this latch. I couldn't pull it up because of the desk, so I moved it," he explained, shrugging.

"Well open it up, what is it?" Harry asked, coming closer and motioning to the black chest.

"All right, all right," Ron mumbled, placing the box down on the table and pulling out his wand. He swing it around a few times and said the words to an unlocking charm. The latch popped open and Ron slowly reached out to lift it, suddenly the excitement had turned in to suspicious interest. Finally, he reached the top and pulled it up.

Inside were a batch of pictures and letters, all looking old and rather yellowed with age. A layer of dust covered some of them, so they shook them out, each trying to read them. Harry unfolded a letter carefully, wincing as it the parchment crinkled, sounding thin and brittle. The scrawl was thin, loopy, and almost illegible. Harry's eyes widened as he scanned the piece of paper.

"What? Wha's it say?" Ron asked, looking on with interest.

Harry shook his head, reading the letter out loud. "_Lady Black_," he began. "_My wife has asked me to send word to you regarding your grandson, one Draco Orion Black, son of Sirius Orion Black and Eltanin Black (née Burke). In the unexpected death of Eltanin and the expected incarceration of Sirius, Draco was left in the care of myself and your niece Narcissa Malfoy. Seeing as he is a blacklisted Black, we are asking what it is you would like _done_ with your grandson. It could be arranged that he suffered the same fate as your daughter-in-law, if it pleases you ma'am._

_"I also feel it important to warn you now that in the event of Eltanin's death, her son has been irreparably damaged; psychologically. I can assure you that while he will appear fine until his dying day, he will suffer internally the entire time. Her sudden demise imparted with him a lasting connection. If it of great importance to you, I can give you full details of what happened that fateful morning._

_"Any questions can be owled back to me. There was a loyal servant with her when she arrived at Malfoy Manor and I have taken it upon myself to take the creature in as my own. If you prefer the boy live in my household, I warn you now that he will be raised as my own son and his identity will never be known. Seeing as Eltanin and Sirius were never open about their marriage or child, it should be easy to keep it from becoming a media circus. Lucius A. Malfoy_."

"He talks about killing him like its nothing, but Draco would'a been a baby then," Ron commented, shaking his head as he frowned deeply.

"Why d'you think Sirius' mum let Draco live?" Harry wondered, staring down at the letter with a furrowed brow.

"Well what do the other letters say?" Ron asked, going through the small handful of pictures in his hand. "Eh Harry," he said, his voice surprised. "Look at this," he said, handing the small square photo to his friend. "Look familiar?"

Harry took the moving photo in his hand, staring down at the small house-elf holding a bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. As the picture moved, Draco's tiny face was visible, scrunched up in a cry. The knobby hand of the house-elf reached out, stroking the babies cheek, and stared down at it with giant eyes. "Dizzy," Harry said, his voice low and confused. "Dizzy was Elly's?"

"I guess so," Ron said, shrugging. "'Till she became the Malfoy's."

"What d'you think it means?" Harry wondered, shaking his head. "And if she was Elly's, why doesn't Sirius remember her?"

"No idea," Ron replied, sighing as he rubbed the back of his neck. He began looking through the pictures again, finding them of no importance. As Harry read through the letters, he too found that there were no others from Lucius Malfoy in the stack.

"Why d'you think the box was in here?" Harry wondered, putting the letters and photos back in and hiding it where they found it, just to be sure that Dizzy didn't realize what they'd found. "I mean, this is just a guess room. I doubt Mrs. Black be staying in here."

"Maybe she wanted them hidden so she had Kreacher put 'em in there," the ginger-haired boy suggested, pushing the desk back into place. "What does it matter? We know now, and we can use it."

"How? What is it going to prove if we say that Dizzy was Elly's house-elf?" Harry queried.

"I don't know, but it could be important!"

"Yeah," Harry sighed, shrugging. "Let's keep digging. We're bound to find something out."

They continued to follow Dizzy around, but she went missing later that afternoon and they had no way of figuring out where she had gone. Both Harry and Ron stayed clear of Draco's room, simply because they had no idea what to say without looking awkward and saying something that would sound forced and most likely untrue. Hermione became even less seen but Harry thought perhaps that was a good thing. She knew he was doing something without her help, but she didn't appear to be hurt by that. Maybe because her attention was solely on Draco now, which should but didn't bother him.

Later that night, he overheard the ruckus when Draco decided he wanted to have a shower. Obviously Sirius had to direct him down the hall to the bathroom as he could hardly see anything at all and the stairs were close enough for him to stumble and fall down.

He had been pacing his room, trying to figure everything concerning Dizzy out, but stopped when he heard the pacing of his godfather in the hallway and the annoyed tone Draco was taking whenever Sirius would ask if he was okay. It was obvious that his father was coddling him, but Harry thought it fitting since Draco couldn't see almost at all.

He could hear Hermione call out a statistic of bathroom accidents resulting in severe injury as she passed to her bedroom. He also heard Draco's pleading response of, "Don't give him ammo, I'm just having a shower. Ten minutes, please! I swear I won't make any sudden movements." His voice was rather mocking but his overwhelming need to be treated normal was coming across clearly.

There was even a moment where Draco stubbed his toe and Sirius nearly took the door off the hinges before his son shouted to him, "Stubbed toe! Stubbed toe! I'm fine!" It would've been amusing had everyone not been so entirely scared that something really had happened. While Harry was seeing it from the point of view of his godfather, he could also understand Draco's irritation at being treated like an infant.

On the third day, things got bad. An unknown owl arrived holding a parcel in its talons. Sirius announced to all those nearby that it was from the Healer and Harry could see the radiant hope glowing in his godfather's face. That was until he opened the brown box to find a potion and a letter. He read it out loud to them, his voice at first sounded rather excited, like he was going to find the answers to his every question hidden inside. Instead he found the opposite.

Ron, Harry and Remus sat in the den listening to him read, his voice becoming dull and confused. He had just seen Hermione leaving when it arrived, going to see Draco when she heard him screaming, which only added to the pain of what Sirius was telling them.

The first part went on about what work she had done to collect the necessary information and how she had found numerous glamour charms performed to hide the damage that Draco had suffered through. Harry could see the anger radiating off of Sirius, whether it was because the real state of his son had been hidden all along or simply because he began to realize the news wasn't good, he didn't know.

Harry wondered how long Draco had been putting up a front, where he learned the charms, if they were only for his nightmares or other reasons. He knew nobody had the answers but the boy lying upstairs though and he likely wouldn't want to go in depth about his life and what precautions he had to take to deal with his nightmares. Harry already knew they were terrifying, that they had made Draco's entire self fall apart, creating the vision of a boy he couldn't always recognize.

The second part went on about what the Healer thought to be the reason, which she had deciphered right, being that it stemmed from Draco seeing his mother die when he was young. It also sounded as if she were accusing Sirius of neglecting his son though, having stated that usually parents do something when their kids are younger and suffering from things like terrorizing nightmares. This seemed to push Sirius over the edge though as his anger melted away to be replaced with remorse. In a way, he had neglected Draco, but it wasn't really his fault. He couldn't be there when he was stuck in Azkaban and he thought his son was being raised with some semblance of care.

It went on to say far worse things though, stating that she believed in her opinion that there was nothing that could be done at that point. She wrote about a potion that would need to be applied before and after he had slept, but her words sounded so dead and emotionless that Harry thought back to what Hermione had said about the Healer; that she had enjoyed seeing him in pain. He could hear it in the words, there was no care there, no interest really, except for stating the facts. Which were that Draco was going to die, and nothing could be done to stop that.

They could make it easier, which was what the potion was offering to do. It would give him back his sight, his appetite, and even get rid of his headaches. He would still have his nightmares, they couldn't stop that, but he wouldn't look like the living dead. He would look like his real self, on the outside. He would still be dying on the inside, still be suffering from the deterioration of his mind. Appearance would be all he had and it was as if they were giving Draco the opportunity to go back to playing the fake person he had been all those years instead of breaking through that shell and letting his real self come out again. Except this time everybody was in on the act and as much as they pretended it was all fine, it wasn't.

She ended her letter with a simple note on the bottle and then a sentence that struck him as wrong: "_I very strongly think it would be much worse for him to speak of what his nightmares entail in depth_." Hermione had just been saying the complete opposite; she had just been reading in various books that it was exactly what Draco had to do to get better. So who was right?

Sirius stared at the note for a long time, his eyes unclear and his hands beginning to shake. His shoulders were stiff and his complexion had become as pale as Draco's. Harry didn't know what to say, didn't know how to react. How do you tell a man who is sure to lose his son that it will all be okay? You can't, because it's not true. Harry wasn't even sure how he felt about it, so he had no idea how to help Sirius with it.

Even Ron looked shell-shocked, sitting beside him with a hanging jaw and wide, upset eyes. Harry hadn't known how his friend would feel, but it was obvious that he was rather angry about what had happened. Harry didn't know why, but he too felt angry. As if the world had betrayed him, had fed him a bad line and told him to accept it.

Here was Draco, a boy who had spent his life plotting revenge for his dead mother and his incarcerated father. He had used his every intelligent braincell to concoct a way to get closer to Voldemort. From just eleven years old, Draco had worked for one plan and one plan only. But would he even make it to see the man who had ruined his life die for his sins? It was unknown; all they knew was that time was of the essence with Draco.

"Sirius," Remus called to him, his voice croaky as if he was too defeated to really make an effort at saying anything reassuring. "There are other Healers, other people we could talk to about this. She wasn't our only chance, maybe she read something wrong. We can get a second opinion, this isn't--" There was hope in his voice, buried beneath the stark pain.

"Have you seen him?" Sirius interrupted, his eyes never raising from his paper. "I mean really seen him. Have you gone in and sat with him, looked at his face and seen my son?" he wondered, his voice flat.

Remus made a sputtering noise, seemingly surprised to be put on the spot like he had. "I... I was in with him earlier, but--"

"But you never looked him in the face, did you?" Sirius asked, his tone cold, angry. "If you had you would see she's not lying. If he didn't speak or move I would think he was already dead," he told him, his voice shaking.

"Sirius," Remus burst out, rising from his chair with an expression of hurt anger. "You can't give up on him. _I_ won't give up on him. This is Draco we're talking about," he reminded, loudly. "DRACO! He's strong and cocky and h-h-h-he can beat anything when he puts his mind to it. He can't... This is-- It's a nightmare, that's all. A stupid bloody nightmare and it will not kill my nephew. No!" he told him, vehemently. "I... I won't let it. I can't..." He swallowed, his hands lifting to cover his face before he simply left the room, his shoulders shaking and his posture making him look about ready to fall.

Sirius didn't reply, he simply folded the letter and placed it back inside the box, staring at his hands for a moment. They looked old as they shook in front of him, and Harry was struck once more by the fact that Sirius was not a young man. He had seen things, been through things that had aged his soul. He could be mischievous, troublesome and childish even, but he was a father too. Now his son was dying, and there was no magic cure for him. He finally got his little boy, only to have him ripped away again.

"I should... I should tell Draco, he'll want to know," Sirius said, his voice void of emotion. He stood up unsteadily, the box kept underneath his arm as he stared out with listless eyes. "You boys should have lunch, it's getting late and I'm sure... I'm sure you're hungry. You're growing boys, after all," he said, quietly. He left then, his head bowed as he walked to the stairs.

They were left to sit in a silent room, suddenly feeling as if they were small and unimportant. The den felt huge, like it had swallowed them whole and left them sitting in an empty existence. Harry felt kind of cold, as if everything had been sucked right out of him.

"It's not right," Ron said, his voice low. "Something isn't right," he told him, his arms crossing. "I don't like this _Sterlange Poulk_ and I don't think she's telling the whole truth," he decided, brashly.

"Hermione doesn't trust her either," Harry reminded, shaking his head, his voice feeling odd to his ears, as if breaking the silent sadness. "Something has to be done. We need to find her, see her personally and talk to her about this."

"How can we be sure she'll tell the truth?" Ron wondered, turning to him with a furrowed brow.

"The Order has a secret cabinet in this house filled with potions. Can you guess which one will come in handy for this interrogation?" he asked, his tone becoming strong and defiant. He wasn't going to just let this happen, he wouldn't sit idly by and wait for the day Draco simply died, pretending to be a normal bloke around them.

"_Veritaserum_?" Ron asked, somewhat surprised. He inhaled deeply, "Where is the cabinet?" he queried, making his decision. The use of _Veritaserum_ by anyone but Ministry officials was prohibited, and they could be sent to Azkaban for using it on an unwilling person. But there they were, talking about it as if it were nothing vital and illegal.

"Tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep, we sneak into the kitchen. Beside the pantry is a hidden door, you just need to use a charm to take the vision guard off of it. We take a bottle and we head straight back to bed without anybody knowing. Tomorrow we go looking for this Healer," he replied, sternly.

"Sounds about right to me, mate," Ron agreed, nodding.

Inhaling deeply, Harry leaned back into the sofa. He sat deep in thought for a moment before he noticed Hermione walking down the stairs, looking as if she had been slapped. Dizzy met her at the bottom of the stairs, her hand reaching out and taking Hermione's as if to comfort her. Harry watched their interaction for a moment, seeing Hermione's brow furrow and her lips purse together before she looked up, catching him watching. She turned back to Dizzy, said something quickly and left.

It was then that Dizzy turned to him, looking much more suspicious than a house-elf should. She crossed the area, walking into the den and keeping her eyes firmly on him. She didn't look anything like a creature grown as a slave now, but more like somebody who knew things she shouldn't, who knew he knew things he shouldn't. Manipulative and deceiving came to mind when he thought of describing her then, and he was reminded of his last conversation with Draco.

"How is Master Harry? Dizzy knows yous has been very worried about yous godbrother lately," she said, her tone implying that she knew what he had been up to.

"I'm dealing," he replied, staring at her with thinned eyes. "How are you, Dizzy? I know you've been with Draco a long time... longer than most know."

Her eyes shrunk a fraction before she smiled at him, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, Dizzy has known Master Draco since he was a tiny baby," she told him, her hands clasping behind her back. "Dizzy has played a large part in Draco's life, shes has tried to help him through many things. Some though, Draco must do on his own. Dizzy cannot dos it all for him," she said, sounding strangely accepting. "Master Harry will know soon enough, Dizzy is sure," she said, her mouth turning up in a half-smile for just a fraction of a second before she had turned and left.

"I don't care what it takes, Ron, we are going to figure all of this out," he said, firmly, his face settling into an annoyed grimace. "There is something going on here and it's killing Draco."

* * *

**A/N** _Sorry it took so long, but I had a slump. Those of you who read **BITTT**, I'm going to be working on that and getting a chapter up as soon as I can. My computer is going in for repairs, HOPEFULLY this weekend. So I won't be able to update for a few days. Sorry. The next chapter will go back to Draco so he can talk about his life with Sirius. I'm tired, so I'm heading off. Please leave a review, I'd really like to know what you think._

_Thank you all,  
Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	12. 12

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_The suspense is KILLING me! LITERALLY! I have all these emotions held captive inside me I just can't let them out or begin to express them! I feel remorse and pity for Draco I just can't begin to describe how sorry I am for him I just feel like hugging him through all his pain and nightmares! I don't want him to die! Poor Sirius he must feel so guilty; not being able to be there for his own son, not being able to hug away all the nightmares from his son's conscience... There are just so many emotions I'm experiancing right now... I believe Elly, the healer and Dizzy all are hiding something.. Elly says that someone took something from her in Draco's nightmares ... Dizzy was with the family since Draco's birth I think she knows something we all don't know and finally the healer...she enjoy's Draco's pain, maybe she wants Draco to die... or maybe she is on the dark side..whatever it is she's hiding something..._"- **_xX Jk Rowling The 2nd Xx_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter eleven**: _Aslan, Liyeane, ChibiChibi, Hotkat144, Pam Briggs, Lily Hermione Potter, bethygirl94, Laendra, SilverDragon's Angel, Zarroc, Caligirl-HPLVR, **devotedHPfan, Sasmith,** **Shaggy37, sugar bumps, xX Jk Rowling The 2nd Xx**_ and _especially** Princess de la Plume, niic smiles**_ and _**galloping-goose.**_

**Important notice**:_ **Eltanin**, though she's often called Elly, is the Arabic name for **Draco**, which is Latin for Dragon. I kept forgetting to explain why I named her what I did. Also, **Prezioso**, a middle name you'll read soon, is Italian for "**cherished**". Just thought you'd all like to know those little bits of information. Happy reading!_

_**A Family Affair**_

-**12**-

"I was weak then," Draco began, his eyes falling to stare at Sirius' chin, noticing how much younger he looked now that he had tamed his facial hair. Perhaps he was trying to distract himself with that thought. He really couldn't bare to stare his father in the eye; to allow his emotions to reach out and connect with Sirius'. He had spent so much of his life being aloof and cold that he was scared about letting anyone in. There had been a time when he was a small child, when he didn't know the benefits of never allowing his true nature to shine through. What if Sirius reacted the way Lucius had? Was that even possible?

Sirius didn't hide how he was feeling, he had always been quite open about whether he was angry or upset. His face was never masked, which Draco had always been terribly jealous of. He so desperately wanted to just let it all down, to drop the shields he had up, to let his vice strong barriers crumble. Instead, he used them to keep everyone out, even his father. Sirius did his best to share everything with Draco. He constantly tried to tell his son all about his past and what kind of future he and Elly had had for him, but Draco continued to pretend indifference. After awhile, Draco felt as if he were hiding from Sirius, and the truth of it was that he was.

There was so much to say, so many situations he could tell Sirius without revealing too much, and yet he didn't want to tell him the simple things. He didn't want to say that life wasn't as bad as it seemed or that on occasion Lucius treated him like a real person. Those moments were so few and far between that they were almost non existent and sometimes Draco wondered if perhaps he didn't just make them up to help himself cope.

His father was staring at him expectantly, but not pressuring him in any verbal way. He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs sitting off the side while his body was twisted so he could look down on Draco. He couldn't help but wonder what he must look like to his father, for he felt like a small, innocent child trying to explain to his dad that there really was a monster in the closet.

He inhaled deeply, wondering how to really start the twisted tale of his childhood, but hoped to make it sound boring and pointless. "I can't remember anything before I was maybe four or five years old, but everything from that time up wasn't anything I wish I could remember," he said quietly, doing his best not to let his hurt show through his voice. "I know I wasn't close to Lucius or Narcissa, they were just... there. I was tucked in to bed by house elves, fed by them too, and if I ever wanted to play, I was to do it alone, in my bedroom, without making any noise at all," he told him, feeling a sharp dig on annoyance run through him.

He remembered those days so well, when he was isolated in the quiet of the room, surrounded by nothing but his soft voice making short noises. He'd always pretend there was someone there with him, someone who would play innocent little games of hide and seek and tag. Of course, it was never as fun as it could be, seeing as his imagination did all the work. There was never a child to join in with him, never the cheerful laugh of another to mingle with his. He gave up on that after awhile, allowed himself to accept that he would never have any friends, or anybody to share in his loneliness. He wanted to voice this to his father, but he couldn't find the strength to say something that hurt him so very deeply.

"I was only allowed to speak to Lucius if it was really, really important. I was young though and to me important things were having that little bit of fun and getting a second cookie from Gizelda, the kitchen's head house elf. So when I asked him things, like if he'd read me a bedtime story or if I could play outside in the grass without my shoes, I usually got..." He paused, shaking his head for a moment and frowning deeply. "I usually got a good slap in the head," he finished, clearing his throat when he suddenly felt as if he were being hit again, and the ringing in his ears was almost loud enough to drown out his voice.

He could remember well the stinging on his face or the way his body would so easily fall to the floor while Lucius hardly moved with his attack. His arm would just fly out, as if to swat a fly from the air, and in the process tear Draco from his hopeful position standing close to him with a bright, innocent gaze. A house elf would always hurry to help him, but stop immediately when the cold glare of Lucius would land on them like a shard of ice nailing them to the floor. Draco was not to be given help at any point, he was to accept his position as useless and worthless with no reason to believe any different. And the sad thing was, he had.

"He often had something to say to me though. If he saw me walking around the house by myself or if he caught me sitting in my room, playing with a few toys the house elves had given me, he'd stop me. He'd sit me down and he'd go on and on about blood purity and how I should feel proud to be a Malfoy," he told him, bitterly. "He had these lessons he'd teach me. He thoroughly wanted me to look the part of his son, and yet he treated me as if I were no better than the house elves he constantly disrespected with cruelty." Shaking his head, he felt a burst of righteous anger for the servants who helped him through his childhood.

"He wanted to instill in me the ideas of power and money being more important than loyalty and friendship. And yet he wanted me to be severely loyal to him, to never question him at all. He told me family was useless, but I was supposed to hang on his every command as if he were Merlin himself."

He could remember the lessons clearly, how Lucius would pace the floors with his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders stiff and broad with purpose. His hair was always swept back as if trying to look regal and proud in its length and colour. His chin was always an inch higher than others, throwing his nose into the air to make him look haughty and more important than any listener. He'd rant for hours, making Draco sit, without squirming, in an uncomfortable chair as he quietly and respectfully listened to every single bigoted, pig headed, vile word he spewed from his ignorant mouth.

He turned his thoughts away from his _adopted_ father and on to his fake mother. "Narcissa," he began, furious with the shake in his voice from his memories, "she just ignored me. She never hit me, she hardly spoke to me, and she did her best to pretend what her husband was doing wasn't any of her concern," he added, noticing that his voice almost sounded lighthearted. He wondered briefly if he was happy that she hadn't joined in, or mad that she never stopped it. "I remember when I was growing up, I never thought to ask her help. I just assumed she wouldn't do anything, and she didn't. The only time she was paying attention was when she noticed the injuries and we had company coming over."

Now he sounded bitter, but when he thought back to it, he loved it when they had guests over. It wasn't that he finally had somebody to pay attention to him, though the public often layered him with praise, but because then he couldn't be hurt any longer. At least, in the beginning he couldn't be. They'd fix him up and tell him not to tell anyone of what had happened, or even refrain from hitting him just to be sure that nothing could be seen. But as he grew up, they simply used charms to cover the damage and told him it would be far worse if he made it known what Lucius had done, and so he learned to pretend the pain wasn't even there. He got to be good at pretending; too good.

"Injuries," Sirius repeated, his voice hoarse but quiet.

Draco glanced up at him, finding it hard to look at the pain and anguish reflected in his father's grey eyes. He looked so old, and so very tired of what his life entailed. Draco almost felt bad for adding more problems to what Sirius had to endure. After all, the son that had grown up without him was now explaining that the life he had hadn't been grand or even good. It had been lifeless, bland, and so very cold. And to add to all of that, there was a time limit now to how long Sirius would even have the boy in front of him.

Draco nodded absently, his eyes turning away from Sirius completely, to stare at the wall with unseeing eyes. He could see it in his mind, see his small frail body as it trudged around the house. He used to try to never wince or make any noise. He never complained, he never questioned Lucius' actions, and he always did his best not to cry. Life went on, though it was never anything to be proud of. Growing up, the only thing that kept him going was that last childish hope in the back of his mind. The one where his _real_ father would come to save him. Even though back then, he hadn't even known Lucius wasn't his dad. He thought it to be a hopeful thought of a boy who felt restrained, but in reality his real father was out there, wishing to get back to him.

"Bruises," he answered, yanking himself out of his despondent thoughts. He hadn't wanted to hurt, he had wanted to talk about it as if it were someone else's life, and yet here he was, laying it all out on the table for Sirius to know. He rather wished Granger was beside him, she always managed to comfort him without even trying. He shook his head of the thought.

"Lash marks from his cane, a sprained wrist or ankle, a bloodied nose," he added. "And there was that time that I broke my arm. But, that was my fault I guess. I... I tripped down the stairs when he was yelling at me about accepting gifts from the house elves. He said I was lucky not to have died and that I wouldn't be receiving help for it because I had done it to myself," he explained with a shrug. "Narcissa had a few friends coming over though... and since my arm was at a funny angle, I think she thought I would disgrace her," he whispered, hating that his eyes filled with tears.

There was an ache in his chest and he suddenly felt as if he should have been disgusted with himself for being so pathetic as a boy. He was angry at himself for being so accepting and wished he had had the power to show them what they were doing was wrong. And still, he knew that were it happening right now, were his arm broken and jutting out oddly, he wouldn't make a sound and he'd wait like he was ordered to until he had learned whatever lessor Lucius had to teach. _Pathetic_, he labeled himself.

As strong as he had become, he was instilled with a sense of being less than everybody else and he couldn't get rid of it. Lucius had forced him to believe he was worthless and therefore he was; which is why it never scared him to die killing Voldemort. He was but a vessel for vengeance, and with death would come rest. There would be no terror, no blind pain, no covered winces or masked cries of hurt. He could lay peacefully as his life drained from him and perhaps in heaven, he would be greeted with an angel. Elly.

"So she fixed me up when it was warranted, other than that though, she basically forgot about me," he said, sounding emotionless. "The house elves usually cleaned me up though. Bandaged what they could, cleaned away the blood and used the few healing charms they had to fix things from scarring or doing severe harm." He couldn't help but notice how grateful he sounded and immediately forced himself to go back to sounding listless.

He had grown up with house elves, and they had been his saving grace in his opinion. Perhaps they were the reason he had been kept at all _good _over the years leading to his discovery of his real parents. Had they not tried to remind him that someone cared, that someone wanted him to feel good, to smile and to laugh, perhaps he would be like Lucius now. Cold, heartless, and without any feeling at all. He could play the part, he could pretend to be all that his faux-father possessed, but it was just a facade. In reality, he had far too many feelings, though deeply buried, to become the Malfoy Lucius had wanted him to be.

He needed a change of subject, and though it wasn't his favorite topic, he decided to speak about what had put him in the position he was in now. "I remember the nightmares when I was kid, they used to be less... gruesome," he told him, realizing his voice was shaking and had dropped to a near whisper. He felt a shiver run through him and wondered if it was from talking about his nightmares or simply remembering what he'd been through involving his stand-in parents. "She always dies, no matter what I do. I can't hold her from being taken, I can't even touch her really. The second she puts her hand in mine or touches my face, she begins to... die."

He looked up for a moment, feeling his eyes sting and his throat close off. Talking about her was painful, but seeing it all happening in his mind again, that was terrifying. Fear seemed to reap its own form of terror in him, constantly. He was sure that nobody lived what he had been through; that nobody went through their days hoping they didn't think of their mothers beautiful eyes, scared of what it might bring about. The simple idea of her honey hair seared him with a pain deeper than he could ever face. She was always so angelic, so beautiful, up until the point where she was ripped from him.

"She used to talk to me," he whispered. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get his voice to raise to a normal pitch. "To ask me what my life was like and if I remembered her. Sometimes she'd just... she'd just sing to me though. She'd sit in front of me and cry while she sang this song that I can't... I can't remember any more," he told him, feeling a biting sense of anger toward himself. He wanted his mind to do his bidding, to remember all that he wanted to, but it refused him.

"And whenever her hand would come out to stroke my cheek or she'd lean in to kiss my forehead, everything would change." He sounded croaky now and he realized he was breathing a little quicker. "When I was younger, she wouldn't bleed or burn away, but she'd be dragged from me. She'd scream and cry and beg for me to remember, and then this black h-hand would come to rip her away. She'd struggle and pray for someone to save her, but... but nobody ever did," he said, his voice a near whisper. "_I_ never did."

He felt that burst of hate for himself rise up once more; he always felt as if he was failing her. Why couldn't he save her? Why couldn't he do what she asked? He could remember her death, her bleeding eyes, her anguished cries. But that wasn't what she wanted him to think back to, that wasn't the memory she was trying to bring about. So what was? What was he missing? How could he save her?

Shaking his head, he swallowed thickly, knowing he had to go back to explaining his life again. "I always woke up sweating and crying; sometimes I was even still screaming," he admitted, knowing he now sounded monotone and lifeless. "It was when I started waking Lucius up that it became a problem. He'd come into the room late at night while the house elves were all crowded around my bed. They were always trying to calm me down, to soothe away my tears. But I knew... I knew that Lucius hated crying and that just made me cry harder. So when he came in, he'd start yelling and he'd... he'd make everybody leave the room so he could tell me..."

His eyes trailed off for a moment and he could see Lucius at the foot of his bed, his face curled in rage and his white blonde hair falling in a a thick mane over his broad shoulders. He looked like a malicious murderer come to rid him of his very breath and Draco had to inhale deeply before he was able to remind himself that he couldn't just not tell his father what had happened. He had been so scared as a child, so fearful of everything he did. But he wasn't that boy anymore, he wasn't a child at all. He was stronger now, more cunning than Lucius thought. And still, his hands shook on the white sheet atop his body.

His chin began quivering and he felt himself shrink into his bed, wanting nothing more than to curl into himself and scream against the pillow beneath his head. "And he'd rant for what felt like hours," he breathed, his eyes falling closed, but the tears still pushing their way out. "He'd go on and on about how p-pathetic I was and how childish and ridiculous it was for me to be afraid of my dreams. And he'd scream at me that I was w-worthless and that he never wanted me. That he should just kill me and get the bother over with." He sniffled, swallowing the emotion and tears that spewed from him, he begged to become his masked, emotionless facade once more.

Sometimes he had wished for death. It hurt so much to hear those words. To know that he really was a wasted life, a nuisance to everyone around him. He almost wanted to die, to give up and just let himself drift away. When he was a little boy, he often wondered if Lucius had killed him, would he see the beautiful lady in his dreams up in the heavens? Would she sing to him?

Draco clenched his jaw, shaking his head quickly and forcing the tears away. He wiped briskly at the ones on his face with fisted hands and could feel his own glare at the salty beads smeared on his skin. He continued on, his voice clipped and thick, "After awhile, I stopped crying. I asked Gizelda if there was anything she could do to stop Lucius from hearing me and she spoke to Narcissa. They started putting up the silencing charms so that I wouldn't have to go through it anymore."

He could clearly see the look of exasperation on Narcissa's face whenever she had to put the silencing charms up. He remembered shrinking in his large bed whenever it happened, feeling as if he had done something terribly wrong and was still being punished for it. It was a lasting effect, and even as he put them up later while he lived at Hogwarts, he felt that shame before he fell into a terror ridden sleep. It followed him every where, like a malicious shadow.

"The glamour charms came later, after Narcissa noticed Lucius staring at me with disdain. She taught me when I was eleven because she worried that people would begin to notice my appearance and start talking about their family. She also taught me the silencing charm so that I could stop the noise from leaving my bed, that way none of my Housemates would hear me," he told him, sighing.

He looked over to Sirius, noting his father's deep frown and the way he was glaring down at the sheet now. He couldn't help but wonder if he had failed him, too. Had he turned out to be the coward Lucius always called him? Did Sirius think him to be worthless now? Was he tarnished goods? A son nobody could ever truly cherish? He pushed his childish thoughts away. He had no need for them. He had managed this far, why place so much burden on another being? The need to be aloof and distant came back, but he could see from Sirius' stiff shoulders that he wanted to know it all, and he wouldn't be backing down on his want for knowledge.

Draco sighed, his thoughts becoming muddled as he thought over his childhood. What could he possibly say to explain how he had turned out? What explanation could he give that would sufficiently sum him up? "I remember the exact day that I realized I couldn't be a child," Draco said. His voice shook, so he swallowed thickly. "There was a fair down the street, I could see the rides and the crowd of people with balloons and popcorn from my bedroom window. I desperately wanted to go. I found out about it the week before, but I had to ask Lucius for the privilege."

His mind took him back to that day, and he could nearly feel the desperate hope inside him as he stared sadly at the people milling around down the road. It all looked so fantastically fun and he wanted nothing more than to join in. "I begged him to take me, or to at least let me go," he told him, grinding his teeth as he remembered Lucius' sneer of superiority. "He told me that if I could tell him the exact amount of stars up in the sky, that he would take me to the fair."

Shaking his head, Draco stared grimly at his curled hands by his sides. "For six days I counted those stars, but I never came up with the same number," he said quietly. "Lucius asked me the morning the fair came if I knew the answer and I told him..." He felt a smile for one moment, remembering when he had been innocent. "I told him there was a _bajillion_ stars." He looked over at his father, seeing a sad smile on his face too, his eyes looked distant and removed.

"He wanted to have proof and so I gave him my_ promise_. I had heard him give his word so many times to people he knew and they never questioned him. I figured my word was all the proof he would need," he said, almost sounding as if he were defending his young self. "It wasn't," he admitted, "I got a sharp slap in the face and was told never to lie to him again. I was sent off to my room and told that I would never go to a fair."

He swallowed, his throat swelled and burned with emotion. "I didn't cry, I didn't beg him to let me go, and I never once asked him again. I sat at that window and I watched the fair happen. And then I bottled up every fear I had, every bloody tear that wanted out, and I never let them show again," he said, vehemently. His teeth clenched and he seethed with anger.

There was a long pause of silence and Draco forced himself not to look at his father. He wondered if perhaps Sirius would leave. If he'd just leave him there to stew in his misery and suffering. He didn't move, he kept his eyes staring downward, ignoring the pain as they began to sting from tears. He wanted to cry, he wanted to let out the pain and not the anger. He was so tired of being angry, so filled with hate.

"He killed you," Sirius whispered, startling Draco with its anguished fear. "He killed the child in you and he made you lose every bit of innocence." He shook his head, his face clouding with anger. "How old were you then? How old were you when he told you that he wouldn't take you to the fair?"

Draco shrugged, trying his best to look unfazed. "Five, I think," he answered, hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt.

"Five," Sirius bellowed, nearly jumping from the bed to begin stomping across the floor. He muttered under his breath, expletives and vicious words about Lucius and Narcissa.

Draco actually felt himself relax some, hearing his father so angry calmed him. He hadn't realized just how scared he was that Sirius wouldn't want him if he knew how damaged he was. Perhaps that was why he never shared any of his past with his father; he didn't want to lose him. It seemed a foolish fear now, for Sirius looked incensed that his son had been treated so badly, rather than disgusted with how weak his son had been.

"And this is how you coped?" Sirius asked, coming to a halt in his stomping to turn to his son. "By shutting everything out? By pretending you had no feelings left inside you?" Draco didn't believe his questions begged an answer, since it appeared so very obvious. "But why me, Draco? I mean I offered, didn't I? I let you know that I was open to hearing everything. So why did you shut me out?" he queried, looking both hurt and hesitant.

What could Draco tell him? In his honest opinion, he had been terrified that his real father wouldn't want him just as much as his fake one hadn't. He had been scared that if he shared his real self, the person inside that was scarred and more than a little vengeful, Sirius would turn his back on his son's black soul and never look back. He had been downright petrified of the idea of letting his shell crack, only to be reminded of how pathetic he was. Should he tell his father that? Would Sirius understand? Draco simply lowered his gaze, turning his face away as if to show his lack of answer.

Sirius let out a huffing sigh, shaking his head and settling his hands on his hips as he glared viciously at the floor. "Did..." He trailed off, an expression of sorrow on his face. "Did anybody care for you? Did they ever tell you they loved you?" he asked, hopefully. He lifted his eyes to stare at his son, a glimmer of tears settling over his grey gaze.

"Yeah," Draco replied gruffly as he nodded. "Elly did."

His father let out a long suffering breath, nearly falling to his knees as he swayed in the air. He managed to get to the bed as he collapsed into a heap of sad anger. He leaned forward, resting his limp looking elbows on his knees as he barely held his bent head up, his curly brown hair hung down to cover his face. He made a sniffling noise and his back shook slightly, alerting Draco to the knowledge that his father was crying for him.

"I can't... I can't tell you..." Sirius shook his head, one of his hands moving to clear his sodden face. "I can't possibly apologize for what I put you through, Draco."

"It was Lucius, not you," Draco replied, looking to make him feel better as he stared at his father's back with a furrowed brow and a deep frown. "You were imprisoned, you couldn't possibly have--"

"No," Sirius shouted, rising from the bed and looking down at his son angrily, his vexation appeared to be more with himself than Draco though. "You were right. A few days ago, in the dining room, you were right," he clarified. "I waited too long. I was so bent on vengeance that I didn't think to come for you. To break out for you!" he raged at himself, waving his hands around as if he were clearing the haze of his own ignorance.

He shook his head, looking incensed and broken. "I should have come, I should have broken out sooner. You were my responsibility! For bloody sakes, Draco, you're my son and I left you in the _care_ of Lucius **bloody** Malfoy!" he bellowed, his face flaming red and his hands fisting at his sides. "What kind of father was I to do that to you?" he asked, his eyes wide as tears fell quickly down his cheeks.

"Elly..." he breathed, his voice shaking. "She would hate me! By the Gods, she would _kill_ me for leaving you in the care of those... those _heartless heathens_! How could they do that? How could **anybody** _do_ that? You were a child... You were supposed to have fun! To play! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO TO THE FAIR!" he screamed.

Draco stared shocked at his father, his mouth hanging slightly in his surprise. He had expected Sirius to shout a little, to perhaps decide to murder Lucius, but not this. He sounded like... like a father who was truly hardened that his son had been mistreated. In all this time, Draco had never thought Sirius could be so... _fatherly_. He considered him his dad, he looked at him as his patriarch, but seeing such a paternal disposition in him now had still surprised him. It also made him feel a little more cared for, and he once again reminded of how very lonely he always was.

The only people who ever made him feel cared for were his uncle, his father, and his dead mother. The last being a little odd now that he thought about it. But even then, his uncle and father were hesitant in their feelings toward him. Remus always seemed to be holding back, covering his emotions with playful banter, which Draco enjoyed but sometimes wished his uncle could just come right out and admit he cared for his nephew. His father on the other hand, was really quite obvious with his care, he just happened to be a little worried about whether he was doing it right, and in doing so came off looking as if Draco was more of a bother than a wanted family member.

Sirius ran his hands over his face, apparently trying to calm down. He took in deep, thick breaths, his shoulders rising and falling quickly with each effort. And while his body still seemed to be shaking with rage, he stood a little taller, rolled his shoulders until they were broad and stiff, and then leveled Draco with a startlingly serious gaze. "Now you listen to me Draco Orion Black, and you listen good," he told him, his tone leaving no room for interruption. "You are, by far, more important than any _Malfoy_ that has ever been born. **You** are the only son of Sirius Orion Black and Eltanin Prezioso Black, and you are _gifted_ beyond measure. You're intelligent, cunning, funny, and were blessed by your parents good looks!" he boasted, nodding agreeably.

Draco wanted to laugh at his father's own ego, but couldn't seeing as he was bowled over by how absolutely stunned and loved he felt then. He spoke his and Elly's name as if they were the King and Queen of the world, and he couldn't find any reason to disagree with that. He was proud to be their son, though growing up with Lucius, he feared that nobody could ever truly like him. But here his father was telling him he was more important than he knew, than anybody knew.

"You may have a fierce personality and you might come off aloof and uncaring, but by the Gods Draco, I know you! I know you're a feeling person in there. I know you love your mother and me! I know you wish you could've had a real family; a real childhood! And I can't change what happened, but I swear on my sweet Elly's heart that I will make sure that anyone who ever made you feel as if you were worthless will pay with their life," he shouted, practically shaking with the force of his words.

Draco felt somewhat sorry that he had treated Sirius like he would Lucius. He had looked at him as if he too would care nothing for him, and yet his father was shouting now how very much he did care. He was calling him on his bluff, reminding Draco that he knew what he was really like. Draco had accused Sirius of not knowing him at all, but he knew he did, it just scared him. Sirius hadn't been around when he was younger, but had he been, Draco wouldn't be the same person. Sirius couldn't change that now, but he was accepting Draco as he was, and that meant more than he could put into words.

"And you can fake indifference to me, you can pretend you don't care when I tell you how proud I am of you, but I'm not going to walk away," he told him, thickly. "And stop looking at me as if you've never seen me before. Because, bloody hell Draco, I have been standing beside you for the last two months and I have never hidden how much I want you here!" He swiped his hand through the air in a final motion, as if telling his son not to argue.

It was true that Sirius never told him he should leave or even made him feel as if were out of place, Draco just never let him know that he felt like Grimmauld place was home. And he couldn't help the look on his face, he'd never really been praised before, never been told he was worthy of someone being proud. Narcissa and Lucius had often said it in public, but he could hear the fake pride in their voices, it was all a show to them. They'd layer him with gifts and pretend to coddle him like doting parents, but the facade would be gone as soon as the public had disappeared and he was back to being a tool for them to bring out when need be. But here was Sirius, with nobody but Draco to see or hear, singing about how very much he truly wanted him in his life.

Sirius shook his head then, looking a mite apologetic, but then changing to look more challenging. "Yes, I brought Harry here, and I know you two don't get along, but you will! Trust me on this, son. Give it time, give him a chance! You aren't so different, you just have to work through this problem you have with each other. Because guess what, son, you both have the same goal in mind. Destroying Voldemort!"

Draco didn't fight him on that, he knew he and Potter had a few similarities. In fact, when the bloke wasn't being an almighty, righteous git, Draco might even admit that he didn't exactly _hate_ the chap. Why, the exchange of conversation shortly before Draco's accident had actually been rather amusing; enjoyable even. Had it not been ruined by Potter's need to bring up a subject that wasn't on the select list of topics Draco would discuss, even if he hadn't gotten the memo it was pretty obvious, they might have spoken awhile longer. Perhaps. If he hadn't found something better to do.

Sirius began pacing again, his hands almost wringing as his eyes moved quickly as if reading his muddled thoughts so he could shout them too. "I wasn't there, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for that, but I'm here now," he said, quietly. "I'm... I'm here," he repeated, his tone soft and nearly begging for forgiveness.

Draco knew that. He'd always known that. Had he done something, written Sirius while he was away in prison, his father would've come for him. Had he spoken to Remus while he was at the school, admitted that he knew his father was free and wanted to speak to him, Sirius would have come. And here he was, when Draco needed him most, when he was falling apart and the full weight of life had crushed him whole. Here he stood, staring at him with all the compassion of a father who truly cared.

He turned, staring at Draco with broken eyes. "I don't..." His voice quivering and he lifted a hand to cover his shaking mouth. "I don't know how long we h-have," he whispered, blinking furiously. "But I promise you Draco, I will do everything in my power to make you see... To make you understand..." He swallowed, closing his eyes and swallowing painfully. "You are my son, and I love you dearly. I will do _anything_ for you, make no mistake. But time is of the essence Draco, and you'll have to let me in if you want this too."

Draco was overwhelmed by the show of emotion coming from his father, he stared in shock at the words Sirius had said. He didn't know what to say, so instead, he nodded his gratitude, his compelling trust, his deep seeded adoration. "I know," he managed, his voice thick and strangled.

"What it is you want, Draco? What do you want before... before..." he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. His shoulders slumped and his body seemed to give out on him. His face fell, no longer holding any semblance of hope, but instead resignation. He was going to lose his son, and he had only recently found him.

Draco already had his father; he had his family now and that was all he had been working for, wasn't it? But what about Elly? What about his sweet natured mother? The woman who had lived only in his dreams, lulling him with her love before she was taken from him? What about that vengeance that had kept him going all these years? He couldn't just turn his back on all of that. His mother deserved justice.

"Mum," he whispered, his eyes filling before he forced his tears away.

Sirius didn't understand, his eyes thinned slightly and he shook his head. "I can tell you about her, share her life with you. If I could, I'd bring her back, but... Magic will only do us so many miracles," he admitted with a short sigh.

"No," Draco said, moving so he was sitting up in his bed, noticing that his body hurt a little from being prone for so long. "No, I want those who hurt her to pay for what they did," he said, sounding more incensed with each word. "I want Voldemort's head on a pike and Lucius' black heart crushed beneath my feet," he seethed, his eyes blazing with anger. "I don't care what it takes, I want them dead before I am," he finished, staring at his father levelly, wondering if he'd grant him his last wish.

There was a short pause while his father stared at him, as if searching his soul to be absolutely sure Draco knew what he was asking. "Done," Sirius replied, his tone thick, agreeable, slightly maniacal, and definitely final.

* * *

**A/N** _Hi! Sorry! There was a very small amount of reviews for the last chapter and I just didn't feel the usual enthusiasm to write for this story. However, I do press on. I hope those of you who are still reading are enjoying this. _

_The next chapter will be up to you, as in whose Point Of View it should be in. You get to pick and the most amount will be who I write, whether I want to or not, lol. _

_Your choices are:_

**_Hermione  
Draco  
Harry  
Ron  
Remus  
Sirius  
Lucius_**

_Just add at the bottom of your review, or for those of you who aren't accustomed to reviewing, simply write the name and send it in._

_All right, so I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, please review. I'll be updating soon, after I've tallied votes and started work on what you'd like to read. For those of you who read "**Growing**," I will be working on a chapter soon! So no worried faithful readers._

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	13. 13

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_I have been reading this story from the begining but have never reveiwed it! Sorry! I know I am horrible. Anyway, as I said I have been reading "A Family Affair" from the beginning and I love it! (I love all of your stories actually but I am going to focus on this one here.) I love the emotion and mystery that you put in to this story! The look into Draco's head is amazing! I love emotional stages that you show him going through. And I like the way you are showing him slowly comming out of his facade and showing the real him to Remus, Sirius, and Hermione. I also love the way you are showing Harry's thoughts and how he is starting to kind of understand and relate to Draco. The thoughts and emotions you protray come right off the page. It's WONDERFUL! The other thing that I absolutly love it the role Hermione is playing in all this! I love the balance you have created for her. Not only is she there for Harry as a friend and for support, she is also trying to connect with Draco and is trying to help him. Oh, and the whole storyline with the house elf and Draco's mother is mysterious and just a little creepy but very intriging! I love it! This story is by far one of my favorites and you never have to worry about me reading (even if I don't review...sorry!)... I have too many questions that aren't answered! You are a phenomanal writer! And I always look forward to more chapters from you and constantly check to see if you have updated, probably so soon it's unrealistic but oh well! Take your time no matter what I say because your writing is always worth the wait! Thanks so much_!" - **_Jen'sLostER_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter twelve**: _chicklet, geuxtigers06, Kourui, sasmith, Laendra, grace, spacesareoverrated, aperfectattitude, livelife-loveHGDM, Maybaby525, griss85, Boo Hoo, Hotkat144, Lily Hermione Potter, TheSlayerettes, Caligirl-HPLVR (Jenn), Shaggy37, untitled, Airlady, HSM, Kiely, volleyballgirl1988, Pam Briggs, Zarroc, hanna, lireilsSecret, devotedhpfan, **xX Jk Rowling The 2nd Xx, sugarbumps, min, nite'starr, annieca, Liyeane and especially mskiti (Melanie aka Tabi), Jen'sLostER and galloping-goose.**_

_**A Family Affair**_

-**13**-

Hermione stood rigid in the kitchen, her eyes far off as she turned the spoon in the pot of slowly warming soup. Bits and pieces of the letter from Healer Poulk kept invading her mind, until she was thoroughly distracted. She could hear Sirius' shaky and hurt voice speaking and the rattle of the paper from his quivering grasp. Draco, the boy she had been looking to cure for three days was going to die. Maybe not that day, perhaps not even tomorrow, but soon.

Somehow she knew it was going to happen. Everything she had been reading was warning against it. But at the same time, she was sure she was getting close to a break through. She could feel it. The healer had to be wrong. Hermione didn't care if she was highly sought out, or if she got perfect O's in school, or even if she was absolutely certain, without any doubts at all. Hermione knew! She knew that something wasn't right and Draco wasn't... He couldn't...

"Hermione," called a concerned voice.

She turned so quickly, she nearly took the pot of soup with her. Remus was standing across the kitchen, his face was white and he made no attempt to hide how terribly upset he was. He stared on at her with understanding before coming across the room to offer her some kind of sympathy. "Are you okay?" he queried.

"Yes, yes, of course, why do you ask?" she replied, doing her best to sound as if she was unaffected by the news she'd just been given. How would it really look to people if they found her wallowing in despair? Nobody really knew how much she cared. Ron and Harry had both been so distracted lately, and it wasn't as if Sirius had the time to be caring about such inconsequential things as how much time Hermione had spent taking care of Draco.

"Well," he began, his eyes moving away from her a moment. "You've been stirring that soup for so long it's half evaporated, and you're... you're crying, dear," he told her, a long, suffering sigh exiting him.

Hermione was so surprised by what he said that she lifted her hands to her face, finding that it was true. Tears had been streaming down her cheeks and now wet the back of her hands as she brushed at them angrily. "I-I-I'm fine," she stuttered out, sniffling quickly and turning to take the pot off the stove and hurry to the sink. She dumped the remains of soup and stood stiffly, watching it drain away.

He would be hungry, he'd hardly eaten lately. His stomach, he always said, felt both empty and full. The idea of food made him ill and so he was only ever given the broth. She had tried to coax him into something more, but he was never interested. She closed her eyes as she leaned against the sink, inhaling deeply as she thought back to how he looked whenever she brought food. He always seemed to know when it was time to eat. For he'd sit straight up, wrinkle his nose and sigh with repulsion.

To take his mind off of eating, she did her best to distract him with information. She usually ended up reading the book they had agreed on, Heartbreak House, a Nobel prize winning novel about two contrasting characters in British society. One is an idealist who has wonderful ideas but lacks the cunning to put them through and the other a realist who has no imagination but instead the money, which begets power, to make the idealists dreams and thoughts into profit for himself. It's basically a story about how money has taken over society, and can give the power over to people who are undeserving while stomping all over those who work hard but don't want to step on the little people.

On occasion though, he let her ramble on about the curriculum for their coming seventh year, or little things that didn't seem to matter much, but kept his mind off his turning stomach. She never really questioned him about his ideas for Voldemort or his life with the Malfoy's, and she did her best to steer clear of bringing up anything with Elly, simply because he always seemed to be in pain.

He had told her a few times that he liked that she didn't pretend he wasn't sick. She didn't tell him that she couldn't pretend he wasn't, not with the way she was pouring over every book that came her way so she could help him. For a reason she couldn't explain, she'd been drawn to him lately. Even before she found out about his nightmares his new position in life intrigued her. She blamed it, at first, on the fact that he was basically someone she didn't know at all and so she was setting out to get to know him. If it really was a facade, then she should take the time to figure out what he was really like, shouldn't she?

Before she could make any assumption about his real personality, she found out that he had taken ill. She had been sitting in the den, looking through the book he had abandoned when it all happened. Ron came careening through, shouting to her about how she needed to help and before she could say anything, he disappeared into the fireplace, going for his mother. She took the room into the study and began searching through it. She found out from Ron that it was the reason he had suddenly passed out and that he was currently suffering from one in front of everybody. She couldn't even stop to think of how utterly mortified he'd be when he woke up, but instead began reading to find a way to help him.

By the time she made it to the dining room, he was in a bad state. She could hear them talking about how he wasn't breathing and they weren't sure what to do. Her instincts took over and she remembered a paragraph from the tome she had been sucked into while searching for help. She walked into the dining room with all the courage she could gather, already scared about what she was going to see. She had heard his agonized screams and she wasn't sure what to expect when she was faced with him. He looked terrible, with his skin damp and his eyes wide and terrified as they stared directly at Dizzy the house elf. Immediately, she did what the book told her to.

"_Often, a person suffering from nightmares will bring the subject out into reality when they're still coming down from the high of their mental deficiency. They'll pick that which connects most with whatever they were seeing. To break this catatonic state, someone must distract them. Someone the person will see as harmless and comforting must make eye contact until they resume their normal behavior. Afterwards, the person will most likely be scared and confused. It's best not to defy what they say, for they will most likely spill out information that can later become important. However, never help their fears along, as it can cause severe damage. They are very vulnerable in this state. Take every precaution."_

After that she suddenly felt as if he was her responsibility. She had taken a great dislike to the Healer brought in, which she was confused about at first. It was rare for her to speak out of turn or take immediate dislike to someone she didn't even know. However, the moment she met Healer Poulk, she felt something was wrong. She didn't trust the woman with Draco and she was vehemently against whatever the woman thought would help Draco. She didn't leave them alone in the room together the entire time the Healer was at Grimmauld Place.

During the three days that Draco was basically bedridden, she spent her time either researching a cure or taking care of him. She fed him, read to him, listened to his Quidditch stories, which she found surprisingly interesting at some points, and held his hand while he went through his nightmares. She was there to mop his brow of sweat, to cradle him while he came down from his sporadic shaking, and to reassure him that it was all going to get better. He didn't remember a lot of that, because when he's first falling asleep or just waking up, his mind sort of breaks away from him. She remembered though. She was fully and completely there for him. And that was what broke her now.

He had warned her. Remus had told her every time he saw her in Draco's room, holding him or even just sitting by his bed while he muttered incoherently from the throes of his nightmares. He had told her not to get attached, not to put herself into it too much. It wasn't that he wanted to believe Draco would hurt her in the end, but he knew his nephew, he had said. He knew that Draco was in for serious trouble in the future. He'd had a vendetta since he was eleven years old and it was against the darkest wizard of their time. He was distant and kept everybody he could at an arm's length. And he had a mask up constantly, one that he didn't take off for anyone.

But here she was, after assuring Lupin that she wasn't getting attached, wasn't making too much out of the small relationship her and Draco had. Here she stood, crying her eyes out because she was going to lose him. She could call it the sadness of a faux doctor-patient relationship ending, but it was far more for her. Somewhere along the line, she began to care for Draco as more than a person who needed her help. Her pity was replaced with friendship.

She began to enjoy the time she spent with him, the sound of his voice when he replied with a mildly sarcastic remark, or the rumble of his laughter. She found herself wanting to spend more time with him rather than in the study, searching through tomes. Of course, if she wanted more time with him then she had to keep up her research, but her mind wandered on occasion.

Hermione couldn't pretend anymore. In three days, over the course of 72 hours, between holding him through his sob filled shaking, stroking his matted hair off his clammy forehead, reading to him from their book, holding his hand as he breathed heavily, desperately wishing he didn't have to sleep, she had begun to care for him. It wasn't even just friendship any more, but something more than that. She had real feelings for him. The kind that had her stomach fill with butterflies and her heart skip a beat. The kind that had her voice hitch and her hands sweat.

"I'm fine," she cried, her legs slowly giving out on her until she slipped to the floor.

"You're not fine," Remus replied, sighing as he crossed to kneel in front of her. He reached out, patting her shoulder morosely as he sadly frowned at the sadness written all over her face.

"Don't you dare say, 'I told you so,' Remus Lupin," Hermione told him, trying to sound angry but her voice betrayed her and came out pitiful. She inhaled thickly, letting it out in a wobbly mess. She shook her head, her hands coming up to press against her face. "This... can't... happen..." she cried, pausing to hiccup between each word. Sniffling, she wiped her nose with her hand, her wet eyes closing tightly.

Remus swallowed loudly, his hand covering hers to squeeze reassuringly. "Have you told him how you feel?" he asked, quietly.

"What could I tell him?" she queried, opening her eyes to stare up at him. "He doesn't even... I don't even think he considers me a _friend_!" she admitted, her voice cracking.

She shook her head, running her hands over her face. "And what does it matter now? After all he's suffered, after everything he's been put through, he's just going to... He's going to..." Her eyes fell closed and she tightened her jaw so she wouldn't let out the mangled cry waiting.

"I can't... I can't do this. She's wrong," she said, now angry. Her eyes flew up to nearly glare at Remus. "She's wrong," she yelled, shaking her head quickly. "I can help him! I will help him! I need my books... read... cure... I have to... He needs me... I can't..." she knew she sounded hysterical and more than a little confusing, but she didn't care.

She picked herself up from the floor. "He... He needs soup, could you get it for him? I have to go to the study. Yes, the study is where I'll find the answer," she told him, nodding quickly before she practically ran out of the kitchen.

Hermione's feet slipped on the floor but she continued to move quicker, she barely noticed Ron and Harry in the den before hurrying down the hallway to the study. She ripped the doors open, her eyes flying over the shelved tomes waiting to be read. She slammed the door closed behind her, putting the strongest locking charm on it she could remember. She couldn't be disturbed, she had to put all of her attention into her task. She would read, absorb, and gather the knowledge needed. Yes, yes, that is what she would do. Because the cure was there. It was just waiting to be found. And she would find it. She was Hermione Granger after all.

Thirty hours later, her eyes felt like sawdust. She hadn't slept, instead deciding that reading was far more important. She had countless piles of books around her, each arranged in a specific order. She made piles for those she had checked the index with any kind of information on dreams, nightmares, sleep cycles, Healers, and every symptom she'd found concerning Draco. On the opposite side of the room were the books she was sure had nothing of importance for her to read, which was a collective of thirteen books. And she already knew that if she read everything else and found nothing, she would read those tomes too, just to be absolutely sure.

The curtains were left partly open, allowing her to watch the shadows of day and night tell her the time. She watched from her position as the sun set and rose, only to begin setting once more. Her stomach rumbled and her temples pounded away with a headache, but she ignored them both. Neither Ron or Harry came looking for her, but Remus had come by numerous times, knocking loudly and asking her to please talk to him. She had ignored him, of course, and put up a silencing charm so her research wouldn't be disturbed.

The only time she had stopped her studying was a little after midnight the first night, when she had heard the creak of the stairs and wanted to know who was up. She felt on edge and constantly wondered who she could trust. She didn't know what to think about Dizzy, especially after what the small house elf had told her earlier. She sounded so secretive, like she knew something special that Hermione should but couldn't. It had been almost chilling the way she said it, "_It get worse before it get better, but she'll take care of him. She trust you to save them. He no understand yet, but she'll make him. You wait, Miss Hermione, and she will gift you with the knowledge. Nothing is as it seems._"

When she exited the study, dousing the lights in the room so nobody would notice her, she found Ron and Harry sneaking through the house. Her curiosity got the best of her and so she followed them into the kitchen, their destination being the hidden potions shelf behind the pantry. She frowned, hoping they weren't doing anything superbly dumb.

She never made a noise and they didn't appear to notice her presence in the least. Listening just to make sure they did nothing foolish, for she was far too courteous to eavesdrop for no reason, she paid close attention to their every suspicious word. Most logically, they too had a grudge against the Healer who had decided Draco's fate and made it far too gruesome for their liking.

"What colour is Veritaserum?" asked Ron, a little too loudly for a sneaking voice.

"SHH!" Harry exclaimed, shaking his head and sending his thoroughly ruffled raven hair all over. "I have no idea, but these are all labeled anyway," he told him, pulling out a bottle.

"Is that it? Are we done?" Ron queried, sounding a little uncomfortable. "Y'don't think anybody knows we're down here, d'you? What if Dizzy finds us?" the ginger haired boy whisper-shouted.

"She's a house elf, Ron, I don't think she can do _that_ much damage," Harry replied, exasperated.

"She's not all she seems though, right Harry? So what if she's more powerful than we think," Ron replied, sounding suspicious. "Did you hear that?" he asked, turning around quickly and knocking his elbow into a shelf.

Harry's Quidditch reflexes reacted and he caught two of the bottles that fell from the shelf, but missed the third. The bright yellow liquid spread out over the floor, while the shattered glass continued to make clinking noises as it bounced around from its high fall.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, looking disgruntled. His face lit up like a beet when Harry turned a scowl on him, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Hermione nearly let out a sigh, wanting to throttle the two of them for being bumbling dolts, but remembered that she was supposed to be sneaky. She knew what potion they were after and that they didn't appear to trust Dizzy either, but they weren't exactly blurting out their plan. She thought too soon, for Ron wasn't smart enough not to speak of what they were going to do.

"How're we gonna find her, Harry? I mean, we know she's a Healer, but do we know where she works? And how're we supposed to slip this to her without looking suspicious?" Ron queried hurriedly as he swished his wand around to clear up the mess he'd made.

"We'll just ask Remus where he found her, without making it sound like we're going looking for her. Then we'll go in and see her and if she isn't drinking tea or something then... Then we'll just have to force it down her throat," Harry admitted, shrugging as if it didn't bother him.

Hermione was incredulous. They were stealing Veritaserum, of all potions, something that would get them put into Azkaban if used on an unwilling participant. And he talked about it as if it were the most natural thing ever. Though the rule following part of her shouted out resistance, Hermione couldn't help but admit that had she thought of it, she would be taking that potion and pouring it down the Healer's throat too. She felt a pang of regret for how easily she had come to that decision.

How could she decide that a woman she didn't even know, deserved to have her put through a truth telling potion, one that could drag out her every secret? It was rather cruel, and Hermione didn't even want to think about what idiotic questions Ron would put forward just to make sure it was working, and to have a little fun. She should stop them, remind them how wrong it was. But she couldn't. They were trying to help Draco, just like her. They were going about it in a less legal way, but she wasn't going to stop them.

Harry sounded like he wasn't going to back down anyway. If she tried to stop him, he'd find another way. It surprised Hermione to hear him sounding so thoroughly hateful about the Healer. She could hear the stark disdain in his voice, the willingness to pour such a potent serum down Healer Poulk's throat so he could get to the truth. She wondered if he knew how his feelings had changed for his godbrother? Had he realized that he was trying to save his former archenemies life? She wouldn't tell him that either, she had studying to do.

Once again her fears for Draco had taken over and she found herself nearly running to the study. She had to work, had to read all the tomes waiting for her. She needed information, the cure was waiting for her. Draco was waiting for her. Hadn't he been saying that just before Sirius brought in the letter? That he knew she'd come up with a cure. And she had let him down so far. But she would find it before time ran out. Sure they didn't know when his death would happen, but if everyone just left her alone and she stopped the unnecessary things like sleeping, eating, and those ridiculous bathroom breaks, then surely she'd find what she was looking for. Right?

As the sun disappeared from the sky, thirty hours after she had started her search, Hermione found herself halfway through another tome. It was going to be dinner time soon and she wondered briefly if Draco was able to eat solids yet. It was unlikely that he was putting anything heavy into his system yet. She returned her attention to the book in her hands, but she kept finding the same thing over and over. Every single book told her it was best for him to discuss his nightmares in length. She had also found, at least a dozen times, the potion and directions to going into his nightmare with him, to get a better grasp on it all.

She felt like she was reading in circles and wondered if perhaps she hadn't been reading from the already-read pile. She shook her head, picked up a piece of parchment and wrote down the title of the book she was holding and every other title of the books she was absolutely sure she'd read. That way she didn't find herself absorbed in a book she had already searched for the information needed. She was tired and fairly distraught, but she ignored that to keep reading. Her mind and body could take it, it wasn't as if sleep deprivation over a short period of time would kill her, and she'd eat eventually, when she had time.

She stood up when her legs began cramping and decided to walk and read for a little while. The jarring of the book began to bother her, however, and so she was forced to put it down. She sat down in the chair sitting angled behind the desk, inhaling deeply as she felt incredibly tired and her eyes started to close on her. Blinking rapidly, she shook her head, determined not to fall asleep. Rising from the chair, she felt a stitch in her side, telling her she was beyond hunger and her stomach didn't appreciate it.

Sighing, she decided to get something to eat, hoping that she wouldn't run into anybody. Opening the door slowly, she poked her head out, looking for any sign of life. She couldn't see or hear anyone, so she walked down the hall and toward the dining room. She glanced briefly at the den, trying to see if anybody could see her. She noticed Remus sitting on the couch, his head propped up on his arm as he drowsed.

Hermione stopped outside the dining room door for a moment, pressing her ear close to listen for voices. When she heard nothing, she walked through the swinging door and across the room to enter the kitchen. Dizzy was running around the room, her little feet carrying her as she hurried to put together dinner. She looked simultaneously frustrated and excited. Hermione didn't want to ask her what was wrong, she didn't really want to speak to the house elf at all. She didn't feel Dizzy was evil or out to cause trouble, but there was definitely something different about the overzealous house elf.

Making her way to the fridge, Hermione did her best to pretend Dizzy wasn't even in the room. She figured if it looked as if she didn't notice her, then the house elf would ignore her as well. Digging around through the shelves, Hermione decided on a sandwich, an apple, and a glass of pumpkin juice. Since Dizzy had previously put together a whole plate of sandwiches, Hermione decided to take the ham and cheese one staring out at her, just begging to be eaten.

Dizzy watched her from the corner of her large eyes and Hermione did everything to pretend it wasn't unnerving. She was half way across the kitchen when the small elf caught her attention. "You findin' lots of information, Miss Hermione?" Dizzy asked, sounding innocently interested.

Hermione's back stiffened but she turned slowly. "Yes, I'm sure everything will turn out fine, Dizzy," she assured, feeling her throat close off. She didn't want to admit that she felt like she was failing, that she hadn't done her job right and Draco's life was on the line. She didn't want to let it get to her, or she'd start crying again. And crying got nothing done. No, she refused to let her tears deter her. She had to read; read and research. His cure was waiting, and she needed to find it.

"Dizzy knows Miss Hermione will save them," the house elf called out, nodding shortly. "Miss Hermione cares too much to let them suffer. Yes, Dizzy know she will find the answer." She sighed then, turning a little to look at Hermione with eyes that didn't look as if they belonged to the house elf. "Sometimes, we look too hard and miss what's right in front of us. Dizzy think Miss Hermione has that problem." She turned her back, apparently not wishing to hear Hermione's reply.

Swallowing, Hermione backed up and turned to walk out of the kitchen. Her eyes were moving around quickly as the words settled in her head. What was Dizzy trying to tell her exactly? Was she missing something important? She couldn't think. It was all so muddled. She was tired and irritable. And scared, she had to admit. Though she refused to say it out loud, denied that it was affecting her more than she should let it, she was terrified. He was dying. Right then, as he walked around the house or read a book. And she had failed him. She hadn't found his magical cure. He relied on her, had expected the Brain Granger to find his help for him. But she hadn't.

Her chest began to constrict and tears filled her eyes, but she forced them away. Shaking her head, she inhaled sharply. She had to read, read, read. Books and tomes, smarts and cleverness, that was what would help now. Information and research. She needed to find the answers to all his questions. Her mind was wracked with worry and dark thoughts of failure.

As she walked through the front area, she bumped right into who she was thinking about. Draco caught her before she fell, looking down at her with wide, curious eyes. "Where've you been?" he asked, sounding mildly annoyed. "I've been looking all over for you."

"I-I-I've been reading," she replied, wincing as her voice came out broken and raspy.

"Reading," he repeated, frowning. "For how long? You look like you haven't slept at all." He smiled for a moment, and she felt the flutter of wings in her stomach. "You look as bad as I do after a nightmare," he attempted to joke.

Her lip trembled and she felt her shoulders shake beneath his palms. "I, uh... I should get back to the study," she told him, her eyes falling as she inhaled deeply.

"What's wrong with you?" he queried, his brow furrowing. "Not having regrets about all that time you spent with me, are you? Can't take it back now, Granger. Besides, you were an all right nurse, when you weren't prattling on about Arithmancy and Transfiguration," he said, a small smile making its way onto his face.

He frowned, a small shrug lifting his shoulder. "Now that I think about it, you're probably the last teacher I'll be seeing. I don't imagine there's much point in going in next year. Not only because, well, let's face it, most people are going to want to burn me at a stake for what happened with Dumbledore, but I don't imagine McGonagall is going to want to risk having me around her students. Y'never know when I'm going to croak." He said it such an off handed way that she nearly laughed, but instead let out a strangled whimper.

"I'm sorry," she told him, shaking her head quickly.

His eyes widened as he stared down at her now tear littered face. "Hey, hey, why?" he asked, looking mildly scared about her sudden show of emotion.

"I tried, I really did," she told him, hiccuping painfully. "I read all of it. I read the entire book and twenty others, but they... They didn't help. I can't find it. It's nowhere. I kept reading and reading, but it's not here." Her arms shrugged until the food fell from her hands, the glass tumbling to the floor and spilling pumpkin juice all over.

She stared up at him, her brows lifting and her eyes widening. "M-Maybe you have another book?" she asked, hopefully. "Or maybe I-I could go to D-Diagon Alley and get more. It's got to be somewhere, I just know it. This isn't right. Not right at all," she cried, her breathing picking up.

"What isn't? What are you looking for? Make sense, Hermione, you've completely lost me," he told her, looking down at her with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes.

"The cure," she cried, tears falling from her eyes. "I didn't find it. You said I could, but I couldn't. I looked, I swear I did. I looked all over. And she's wrong, I know she is. That Healer... She's just... She's wrong!" she shouted, her voice wrought with tears.

"But I'll find a way, I'll find it. I just need to read, I need to go through the books again." She nodded, swallowing painfully. "Yes, yes, that's what I'll do. I'll read all the books again. It's there. It has to be. She told me I was looking but not seeing, or something like that. That's what it is," she told him, her head bobbing quickly as she inhaled thickly.

"Hermione," he called, trying to interrupt her, but she ignored him, continuing her rant.

"No, you can't tell me she's right. I know she's wrong, Draco," she told him, shaking her head quickly. "The books, they all said the opposite of her. And- And- She's just... There's something not right about all of this. I can feel it."

She felt foolish, but she was too tired to stop her ridiculous display of tearful sadness. She knew he was likely annoyed with what she was doing. He was so good at hiding how he felt and she was being a pitiful mess. He'd yell at her any minute now, she was just waiting for some scathing remark to shut her up or make her run away. She wished she could hide how much it hurt, but she couldn't.

Here he was, standing right in front of her, and he looked so healthy. It was all one big cover up though, a deceptive potion to make him look as if nothing was wrong. His colour was back, his eyes were clear, and he was walking without looking tired. But it was there, she could see it behind his eyes. The aftereffects of one of his nightmares, the pain and sorrow still lingered in his mind, in his every fiber. He just looked as if everything were okay, like any normal seventeen year old boy who had no problems. The world was their oyster and nothing could go wrong.

Except it had. It was all wrong. He was dying and there was nothing she could do. But maybe if she got to her books, if she could read everything again, she'd find it. She would. She just needed to stop all this foolish crying, and forget about food and sleep. It could all wait. He couldn't though. The cure couldn't wait. It wouldn't find him, she had to find it for him.

"I should have found it earlier. I should have been reading more instead of eating or sleeping. What was I thinking? I should have been in the study! I should have been with the books and the information. But I was stupid, Draco. I was stupid then. But I'll find it this time. I will," she told him. Her knees felt weak and her temples were throbbing with a headache from being so tired.

"Do you hear yourself?" he interrupted, his voice loud and angry. He shook her by her shoulders, staring into her eyes with concerned annoyance. "You have to eat, you have to sleep. This isn't going to help. You don't have to do this!" he yelled, shaking his head. "This isn't your fight, you can't do this for me!"

"Yes! Yes it is, yes I can," she screamed, feeling all of her shake. "You said it. You told me!" she shouted, breathing heavily. "'_You'll find a cure, Granger. I know you will!'_ You expected it. I EXPECTED IT!" she bellowed, feeling her face heat up with her failure. "I looked. I looked all over. Even while I was with you. I'd read while you slept, while you screamed, Draco. And I can't find it."

She shook her head, her eyes trailing off, tears milling in them while she angrily tried to get herself to stop being such a dramatic, emotional fool. "I just... I just need more time. I need to read, I need to go back to the study. The answer is there. It's there, I know it!"

"Listen to me," Draco told her, forcefully. "I don't expect you to save me. You don't have to be the hero, Granger. You don't have to do anything for me. D'you understand? Sometimes you just have to accept the inevitable," he half-shouted. "I'm going to die," he said, nodding slowly.

"No," she told him, shaking her head as she felt the bubble of emotion well up in her throat, raw and burning.

"Yes," he replied, loudly. "I'm going to die and there's nothing you can do. You can't save everybody. You can't... You can't save me," he said quietly.

"I tried to," she replied, blinking furiously. "I tried to."

"I know," he whispered, nodding as he stared down at her sadly.

"I'm sorry," she cried, feeling herself crumble against him. She leaned forward until her face was pressed against his chest, her back and shoulders trembling. "I'm so sorry."

He cradled her, his arms wrapping around her body to hold her tightly as he rocked her side to side, soothing away her tears. He whispered words of reassurance, lulling her into calm. He was the one who should be upset and hysterical, but instead he was holding her as she acted like the tearful and emotional girls she had always made fun of for being that way. What good did tears do? They didn't solve world hunger or help a friend through a bad situation. Before she fell asleep against him, she couldn't help but think that he smelled really nice, and his arms fit just right around her.

When she woke up, she found herself in Draco's bedroom, wrapped in a blue blanket she recognized as the one he kept hidden beneath his comforter. She blinked tiredly, looking around to find the room completely covered in darkness, save for the pale moonlight as it played over the carpet, lighting someone's leg as they slept in a chair across from her.

Sitting up slowly, she yawned, still feeling tired as her stomach rumbled. She heard a low chuckle before the leg moved and she heard the whispered noise of someone using _Lumos_ on their wand. Draco's face was lit by the pale glow as he walked over to sit beside her on the bed. He shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "Seems our roles have been reversed," he commented, picking up the plate on the end table holding a ham and cheese sandwich.

Hermione sighed, feeling her cheeks redden just slightly as she reached out and took the sandwich from the glass dish. "Thank you," she murmured, feeling much like a child.

"It's the least I can do, since you've been doing that and more for me these last few days," he replied, shrugging easily. He leaned back on the bed, using his elbows to prop him up. "And, how are you feeling, Miss. Granger?" he asked, using a playful mock-expert voice to lighten the mood.

She smiled at him, chewing the chunk of sandwich that sat inside her mouth before answering. "Better," she replied, remembering how hysterical she must have come off.

He nodded slowly. "Quite the show you put on earlier," he said, quietly.

"Sorry," she immediately replied, feeling her foolishness strike her again. Her stomach was full of butterflies once more, having him so close was beginning to affect her brain too. "I... I don't know what came over me. I was just really..."

"Scared," he said, his eyes lifting from the sheet to meet with hers.

She didn't know how he did it, but with one look he made her feel as if he was reading her soul. She felt open and bare around him, like he could see her every thought, feel her every emotion, know her completely. He likely had no idea how he made her feel and she hoped he hadn't caught the way she shivered. She suddenly worried if she looked rumpled from sleep and if he knew what kind of an effect he was having on her sleep hazed mind.

His voice was like silk running over her skin, and she couldn't pretend that friendship was the only thing she felt when she looked at him. She never experienced these feelings when she was with Ron or Harry. She always felt level headed and at ease; there were never any moments where she wondered if she sounded foolish or if her hair was in complete disarray.

Nodding, she cleared her throat. "I should be used to death," she whispered, feeling like she didn't want to share this conversation with the rest of the world. "After all, what is war if not something that causes death and destruction?"

"It can be cleansing too," he replied, staring up at her with his silvery eyes. "If Potter wins, Voldemort's gone, how much more clean could the Wizarding world get without that _creature_?"

She smiled lightly, shaking her head slowly. Her mood became somber though, thinking about all the casualties that the war would produce. She'd had nightmares about the War, the blood and death that came with it. Walking through the fields, seeing the faces of friends, children, innocence. "But at what cost?"

"Innocents will die, I won't lie and say everybody good will live," he admitted, letting out a sigh. "It's all a matter of worth though, isn't it? What would you give for world peace? For the future of a child? For the life of another?" He smiled lightly. "You, Hermione Granger, would give just about anything for everybody else." He said it with a sad sigh, making her question whether he was upset about that idea.

"Is that good or bad?" she asked, turning her legs so she was sitting with them crossed in front of her. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and watched as he slipped his hand through his hair absentmindedly, his eyes turning off in thought.

"It all depends," he replied, nodding shortly. "Y'see, you want to die for a cause. You want to save the world and everything good inside of it. You see the world in black and white, good and bad, light and dark." Shaking his head, he bit his lip for a moment, before turning his eyes up to look at her again. "There are shades of grey though. When you think of dying for the world, of saving an innocent, you consider it a worthy sacrifice. But you don't think of everybody you'd be leaving behind." He stared at her, a frown etched into his mouth. "You're an innocent, Hermione. Who's going to save you?"

Swallowing, she stared at him a long moment. "I guess I didn't really think of it that way. But... But if I did die, the people I left behind, they'd... They'd know _why_ I did it, and I think they'd understand."

Smiling faintly, he nodded. "The only thing I want to do before I die is kill two people. I'm no innocent, Granger. You shouldn't want to save me," he reminded, shaking his head. Licking his lips slowly, he sighed.

"You're still innocent. If I saved you before you killed, I wouldn't have any guilt. In fact..." Clenching her jaw for a moment, she looked down at her hands fiddling with each other in her lap. "I don't think I'd feel any guilt, no matter when I saved you. Those people you want to kill, Draco, they're not... They're not good people, are they?"

"No," he admitted, reaching out to take one of her hands and beginning to play with her fingers absently. "They've done things... Things that can't be forgiven."

Nodding, Hermione stared at his hand around hers. "If I could save you, would you want me to?" she questioned, her voice quiet, soft. He was so accepting, she had to wonder if perhaps he didn't want to be saved. If maybe he was looking forward to death. She couldn't exactly blame him. Life hadn't been good to him. And perhaps Elly would be waiting for him.

His hand stopped for a moment, his thumb pressed up against her palm. "I don't know. I think having a time limit makes me want it a little more; makes me work a little harder," he whispered, frowning. He almost sounded annoyed that he was advancing in his plan to destroy Voldemort, and she couldn't help but wonder why. "I wouldn't mind living afterwards though. I'm going to miss a lot..." Sighing, he resumed playing with her fingers, shaking his head slowly. "Are you close with your parents, Granger?"

"Sometimes," she replied, lifting her gaze from her hand to stare at his face. His eyes were settled down on their entwined fingers, looking slightly misty. The glow of his wand threw shadows over his face, making his smile look sad and wistful. His honey hair dangled over his brow, part of his bangs brushing over his eye, the end pressing against the bridge of his nose. "They don't know me very well. I guess it's hard to understand someone when you lead a completely different life. There's so much that I experience that they couldn't even imagine," she breathed, shaking her head. "I can't explain it to them and half the time I don't want to."

"This whole family business is tricky," he replied, grimacing slightly. "I spent my childhood wanting my real dad and when I finally got him, I pretended I didn't care. It's not so easy anymore."

"Caring or pretending not to?" she wondered, admiring how warm he looked when he wasn't scowling or avoiding answering honestly. She didn't want to press her luck, but he seemed so open to talking that she couldn't help but ask things. Usually, he kept the conversation light and airy, but he was the one who started in about death, family, and all that comes with it. She felt an inner triumph, hoping that perhaps she meant more than just a faux nurse to him.

"Both," he responded, glowering for a moment. "I'm good at pretending, perhaps a little to good. But there are times when I don't want to anymore." He looked up, staring at her with an unreadable expression. "You know, this is probably the longest time I've talked to someone without making a biting remark to hide how honest I've been."

Smiling, Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as she stared into his eyes. "I'm glad," she whispered. "I was a bit worried that you were going to snap at me earlier. I was... a little hysterical."

"A little?" he asked, his brow lifting and his mouth turning up one side with amusement.

"Okay, more than a little," she said, a crimson blush finding her cheeks.

"You were sputtering nonsense and screaming about being stupid. Obviously," he drawled, his eyes wide, "you were out of your bloody mind," he said, with a small chuckle to soften his words.

Hermione couldn't help but smile, shrugging lightly at his comments. "I don't know... I was... After I found out, I thought I had... failed you," she admitted, shaking her head and feeling foolish with her honest answers. "You were always in so much pain and I just wanted to... I needed to help you and you had so much trust that I would. I couldn't let you down," she told him, her words coming out in a rush.

She let out a heavy sigh, her eyes prickling with tears. "And then Sirius and Remus, they were walking around in this horrible slump. They both looked so tired and beaten. And then Harry and Ron, well they've been tailing house elves and healers for days now," she told him, shaking her head. "Nobody can accept it and I didn't want to."

Draco squeezed her hand, moving to roll onto his back and stare up at the ceiling. "It's hard to accept. Death."

"So why are you able to?" she asked, moving so she was laying beside him, staring up at the ceiling. She wanted to be closer, to hug him and make it all feel better. He didn't seem like the hugging type though and she didn't want to overstep her boundaries. She was afraid her feelings were making her react with her hormones, rather than her brain.

"Because I've been waiting to die since I was a little boy," he replied, quietly.

It was such a sad and morose idea that she nearly gasped, but instead settled for her eyes widening a fraction and her head turning to stare at him in surprise. She couldn't imagine what kind of childhood he had lived to want something so dreadful. She had met Lucius before, and Narcissa was no prize either. She had to remind herself that Draco was putting up an image back then though, so they likely were too. In all truth, she didn't know anything about the Malfoy family. "Why?" she managed, hoping she didn't sound as incredulous as she felt.

He turned his head, staring right into her eyes again. He was always so confident that way, able to meet anyone and anything head on. It almost scared her, made her feel as if she should shrink at his superiority. But the warmth there, the trust hidden behind his silver gaze, that's what kept her from acting like a pitiful child under scrutiny. They were friends, weren't they? Or at least verging on it. She considered him her friend. Acquaintances didn't talk like this, on a bed, late into the night. Did they?

"When I was really young, it was more because I didn't like how utterly lonely I was. I wanted... I wanted to be where the woman who sang to me was. Truth is, I don't know where my mother is," he replied, sighing. "I know she's dead, but..." Trailing off, he shook his head.

"As I grew up though, after I found out about Voldemort and what Lucius did to my mom and dad, I just wanted revenge." Frowning, he stared into her eyes, a dark expression running through them. Had she not known his anger was directed at Lucius and Voldemort, her blood would've run cold from the hatred she saw there. "When you decide you're going to destroy the darkest wizard of your time, you have to expect the worst," he told her, darkly.

Swallowing, Hermione refused to break her gaze with his, wanting to show him that she could understand what he meant, that what he said wasn't something damning on him. Had her mom been killed and her father imprisoned wrongfully, she'd hold a grudge too. Of course, she likely would've taken a more legal and lawful approach, but part of her could understand his thinking behind it. An eye for an eye, as the saying goes.

"You should get some sleep," Draco told her, moving to sit up. "I would've put you in your room, but you have some pretty fancy locking charms up in there," he said, a grin lighting up his face. "Worried Weasley was going to break in and read your diary?" he bugged, turning to her with a cocked brow.

Sitting up, Hermione shook her head, smiling softly. "I don't keep a diary," she told him. It wasn't really a lie, seeing as how she called it a journal and didn't write frilly, girly thoughts inside.

Smirking, Draco shook his head at her, "Journals and diaries are basically the same thing, Granger," he said, somehow knowing exactly what she was thinking when she thought she was being sneaky.

Sighing, Hermione rolled her eyes at him in an attempt at exasperation. The truth was, she was really enjoying his company and didn't fancy the idea of going away. She had been ignoring her sandwich, so she began to pick at it, nibbling at the food. She hadn't eaten in a long time and her stomach was a bit cramped because of it.

She didn't much like the idea of being alone with her thoughts. She needed to think about the feelings she was having for him though, as they were becoming overwhelming and she wasn't sure how to deal with them. Of course, having him take care of her and sit by her as she slept in his bed after a hysterical fit didn't help either.

Rolling off the bed, Hermione held the sandwich against her hip and looked down at him as he sat on his bed, staring up at her with a veiled expression in his eyes. She smothered a delightful sigh, finding him to be incredibly handsome in that moment. She shook herself out of it, hoping she wasn't as transparent as she felt. "Thank you," she whispered, nodding shortly at him as she backed up toward the door.

"No problem, Granger," he replied, watching her go.

Just as she was about to leave, she sighed, turning her attention to him as he crawled across the bed to get beneath the covers. "Draco," she called, bringing his attention back to her. "I just... I want you to know... If I never say it," she said, feeling a bit scared, "When... If..." Biting her lip, she felt tears build up in her eyes.

Swallowing, she shook her head, "When you find out where it is Elly's gone," she began hoping he understood the underlying meaning of, _'when you die._' "I'm going to miss you. I'll miss reading to you and having conversations like this. And... And I'm going to miss your condescending smirk, which I'm sure you're gifting me with right now," she said, her eyes firmly planted on the sheet.

"And, I just... I'm not going to stop searching for that cure, Draco Black, so you can just forget about my letting you die peacefully and without interruption," she told him strongly. Nodding, she lifted her gaze, smiled with her renewed courage and then turned to walk away.

Faintly, almost so much so that she thought she imagined it, she heard him reply, "I know Hermione."

* * *

**A/N** _Hermione came in with an astonishing 19 votes, and so this chapter was certainly due. I hope you enjoyed her POV. Please leave a review, I'd like to know your feelings._

_The vote is up to you once again, pick who you'd like for the next POV:_

_**Draco  
Harry  
Ron  
Sirius  
Lucius  
Remus**_

_Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, I hope this chapter was enjoyable._

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	14. 14

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_This chapter would maybe be my favourite one so far. I liked how we got to see what Hermione was feeling and how her feelings for Draco were evolving. I want the next chapter in Draco's point of view to see if he has the same feelings for her. I hope he does. I want to see the romance between them start soon. I particularly liked the part that said "she stopped the unnecessary things like sleeping, eating, and those ridiculous bathroom breaks" that amused me. I hate Lucius so much. After reading how horrible he was to Draco in the last chapter i just want to hit him. And Narcissa, God how could you just sit back and watch. I am still confused about what Dizzy means when she says the answer is right in front of her or whatever. Im just as clueless as Hermione is which is rather unusual. Im usually pretty good at predicting what's going to happen and whats going on but for the life of me i just cant pick it in you story which is a good thing. Keeps me interested_." - **_niic smiles _**of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter thirteen**: _Belladonna, Kourui, sleepingbeauty18, Airlady, livelife-loveHGDM, xX Jk Rowling the 2nd Xx, Phoenix flame 01, spacesareoverrated, Shaggy37, thisDuckIsQuackers, Pam Briggs, hanna, volleyballgirl1988, Sunya, untitled, bethygirl94, Lily Hermione Potter, PrincessAsbach (Chelsea), babygirl36554, mimbulus mimbletonia, devotedhpfan, **mskiti (Melanie aka Tabi), Caligirl-HPLVR (Jenn), Carla Coleman, Maybaby525, Abraxnia, Dizi 85, TheSlayerettes, sasmith, sugar bumps, Laendra **_and_ especially** Zarroc, Minuby, niic smiles, annieca, **_and**_ galloping-goose._**

_**A Family Affair**_

-**14**-

Draco's morning had been unusual and yet, oddly enough, it was rather nice. His father had woken him up, an excited expression on his face as he shouted that Draco had to be up and ready for a game of Quidditch in the back yard in an hour. It was obvious that he was avoiding the inevitable and instead using the little time they had for bonding, which Draco was rather thankful for. Part of him didn't want to get close to his father, mostly because he wanted to save the pain it would cause when his final goodbyes were being made, but also because it was making him less cautious and deterring him from his original plan. If he got too comfortable with family and the emotions that come with such ties, then he'd lost sight of his goal.

When he got up, he experienced his usual aches and pains from his nightmares and felt overwhelmed with how tired his body was. But the small vile that the Healer had given him took all of that away almost the exact moment he applied it. Feeling refreshed, he found himself walking around the house with a lighthearted step. It wasn't as if he was grinning foolishly, but he didn't put up the facade of a scowl either. When he made his way into the kitchen for breakfast, he ran into Potter, who was pacing the length of the room in deep thought.

Instead of alerting Boy Wonder to his presence, he instead studied him for a moment. It was obvious that something was bothering him, or he was at least psyching himself up for something. His face was tight with concentration and his body was rigid as he walked, his head bowed slightly as his eyes moved around quickly, like he was reading. He was planning something, Draco decided. Were it anyone else, Draco might have felt worried about what their plan was. He might even tell somebody simply because he didn't trust the person doing the planning. However, as he watched Potter continue in his muttering and pacing, he realized whatever he was going to do, it wasn't going to cause harm to anybody he cared about. Because in truth, everyone Draco cared for was already cared for by Potter. So he had no worries, though he was curious.

"You're wearing the floor thin, Potter, and making me a little dizzy," he said, walking past the distracted boy to open the fridge door. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught the Boy Who Lived go completely ram rod straight, his eyes widening a fraction as he turned his attention to Draco. At this moment, Draco realized whatever he was doing, he was doing because of him.

Taking the jug of juice with him, Draco moved to sit on a counter and then reached back into a cupboard to grab a cup. He pinned Potter to one spot on the floor, his stare even, daring him to try and walk away. It was an overwhelming sight, he knew, which is why it was such a great scare tactic. Curiosity always got the best of him, he had to admit. It had helped him while he was a spy for Dumbledore, but it had also pushed him into some _interesting_ positions when Lucius had found him in areas of Malfoy Manor that he wasn't supposed to be.

"There a reason you're taking your frustrations out on the kitchen linoleum?" he asked, lifting one brow. "You know it took me a couple hours to get it laid down right, I'd really rather not go through the hassle again," he said, a short smirk lifting his mouth.

"You put this floor in?" Potter said, speculatively.

"Oh and he speaks," Draco mocked, sighing. "Sirius tried to put carpet in here, which is obviously a... not entirely bright idea," he told him, shrugging. "I've seen Weasley eat and he often doesn't make it far from the fridge. Just like his food usually misses his mouth and meets the floor. So linoleum was a much safer and cleaner way to go." He stared at Potter, taking in his incredulous expression with amusement. "Problem, Potter?" he asked.

"What, no, I just... I never thought of you willingly doing manual work," he said honestly.

Draco nearly laughed, which was a rare thing in itself, but he kept it to himself. "Miracles never cease," he replied sardonically. "I hope this wasn't your poor attempt at deterring my attention, I still want to know why it was you were pacing and muttering to yourself." He tipped his head, his eyes thinning, "You aren't hearing voices, are you? I've heard that's a bad sign. Especially in your position," he said, frowning.

"I'm not hearing voices, Mal--" He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment.

Draco smirked, "You can call me Black if you want," he told him, shrugging. "That whole last name thing is much less friendly."

"And you prefer being less friendly, right?" he asked, looking up at him with thinly veiled curiosity.

"It's better than making too many connections," Draco replied easily.

"So you think you and I could actually make a connection," he said, smirking.

Snorting, Draco leaned back, nodding his head shortly, "You're getting better at this."

"At what?" he wondered, crossing his arms and leaning back against a counter.

"Reading people and knowing what they're going to say before they say it," he told him, sipping some of the juice in his glass, but keeping his eyes firmly on Harry.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, lifting one brow with question.

"You ask certain questions, you turned me away from what I was saying so you could use my words against me. I wanted to talk about your little problem when I came in, but you turned me from it by discussing the floor, and then you miss said my name. Odd timing really, you've been pretty steady on calling me Draco lately, even when I'm not around. You wanted to sway my attention. That's good, you should keep that up," he told him, downing the rest of his juice and walking toward the sink.

Potter watched his approach, a frown appearing and a look on his face clearly saying he wanted to talk more.

"Tell me, Potter," Draco said, dropping the cup and turning to him. "Is this thing you have planned illegal?" he asked, cocking his brow.

Harry's face paled slightly but he kept up a concealed expression. "What thing?" he feigned ignorance.

A slow smirk tugged Draco's lips up, "So it is. Hmm," he said, nodding. "I want you to remember something, and listen closely because I hate repeating myself," he told him. "When I'm gone, you're going to be Sirius' son. Now don't get me wrong; you'll still be _Potter_, super child of James and Lily, but you'll be Sirius' family. I expect you to keep an eye on him, he can be reckless, tends to go off half cocked, if you haven't figured out. He's also got a bit of a mean streak in him and he likes to think he's a kid. More likely, you're gonna be the adult in the father-son thing he and you both want. Maybe he's not ideal, 'cause he's not the greatest with boundaries and rules, but he'll take care of you no matter what you do or say," he told him.

His voice emotionless and coming out as if he were reading a boring passage. He could feel it in his words though, how much he needed Potter to understand just what he was getting out of everything. It felt as if his words were echoing through the silent house, their full weight beyond comprehension. He was giving up his father to Saint Potter, just so he didn't feel any remorse for getting close to him after Draco was gone. It was hard, but his dad needed it.

Letting out a bored sigh, Draco shook his head, "I'm planning on being around to see Voldemort dead, so if all goes well, you won't have him to worry about when you start this fantasy life of yours with my dad. These adventures of yours though, like this one you have planned that I have a feeling has something to do with me, don't get yourself screwed up. Sirius can only take losing one son, and he's gonna need somebody later." He stared at him, a warning in his next words, "Keep your eyes open, never turn your back on anybody unless you're absolutely sure that they are who you think they are, and never take somebody at their word."

Turning away, Draco began walking to the door but then stopped, turning his head back to look at Potter as he stood with a deep frown and his brow furrowed. There was so much to say and yet he was worried he was going to reveal too much of himself in speaking it all. "And don't forget about the others. Hermione hasn't been doing so well, she might need you later. When that girl starts a friendship, she really throws herself in head first," he said, a faintly warm smile on his mouth.

Potter glanced up at him, a question in his gaze which Draco ignored.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, "Oh, and Remus may come off lighthearted and cocky, but it's all a shield. I never broke it down because I kinda liked that he kept things less serious. He's going to need someone who gets through to him on both sides." He was annoyed with himself for using Remus as a soundboard or a break from the darkness around him. His uncle deserved someone more feeling, someone who didn't avoid how close they really were. He never told Remus just how much he meant in his life, how he became one of very few people he'd ever trusted.

Potter gave a small nod, his face falling slightly.

Letting out a rather wistful laugh, Draco shook his head. "You're gonna have a good life, Harry. Don't waste this like I did. These friends and this family, they'll give everything for you. We all take it for granted until we realize we're gonna lose it," he said, his voice giving away the remorse he was starting to feel. Perhaps he could let a little bit of himself out, if only to make sure that those who mattered would really be taken care of. He couldn't do it even if he lived, but maybe Potter could.

"You can change that," Harry said quietly, his head bowed slightly. "You still have time, you're still breathing. You can spend it with Sirius, with Remus. Talking, reminiscing, whatever. You shouldn't just take it all and lay down or use it planning an attack." He lifted his eyes, staring at Draco angrily. "You want your vengeance, but what about Sirius? He wants his son. He wants a future with you in it."

He sounded rather desperate and Draco understood how much Sirius meant to him, to the both of them. But getting too close to his father would only cause more heartache. Sometimes, less is more, better even. Draco shook his head slowly, meeting Harry's gaze head on. "I don't think I have much time for that and sometimes... Sometimes we get over our heads in other things." He nodded, biting down on his lip for a moment. "I've been working on this since I was a kid and I can't just let it go now. Some might say it's stupid to waste the last of my life on a vendetta, but they just don't get it."

Potter sighed, clenching his jaw and looking away.

Crossing his arms, Draco turned completely to him, his face masked with an unreadable expression. "You know how your parents died trying to protect you," he said, phrasing it more as a statement than a question, "Well my mum died trying to keep her family together. My dad went away because he was too trustworthy, too close to your parents, so he tried to give somebody else responsibility, to keep you more safe. They're all strong. They all fought for something greater than themselves. They put their own feelings, their own lives, behind the needs of others. And there's only one person who destroyed all of that."

He remembered when he was a little boy and he used to think of his real father as being a knight who'd come to save him. Even then he knew Sirius was someone to be proud of, even before he realized Sirius was his father. And Elly, though she was so gentle, there was a warrior inside of her. She had stood up against Lucius, wanting to save her husband and sacrificing her life for it. Even in death she continued to fight, though Draco still wasn't sure what against. It could all just be a nightmare, but sometimes he really felt it was her. That he was talking to his real mother and not just a figment of his memory. His parents were people to be proud of but their pride had been stripped from them. Draco had to avenge that, it was the way of a son.

"With the help of others," Potter reminded, shaking his head. "Sirius wouldn't have gone away if people had just listened to him. Too trustworthy and yet not enough for people to believe him when he said Wormtail was the secret keeper," he muttered. "But just like he has others, you have others too. You have the Order behind you, you have Sirius and Remus willing to do whatever you want. A War is between more than two people," he shouted, angrily.

Draco tipped his head to one side, taking in Potter's words and invested expression. He really cared about this, really thought it all through. For someone who didn't talk about Voldemort or the War coming much, he sure had a lot of feelings on it. Draco could see how much it was affecting Potter, the way he squirmed and half-shouted what he thought of it all. He wasn't only telling Draco to rethink his position in what he was doing, he was speaking about how he wanted a break, to reminisce and just enjoy the company of people who cared. Harry had the possibility of a lifetime with family and friends, Draco didn't have the luxury.

"Since I was eleven years old, all I've ever wanted it to see Voldemort suffer because of what he did to my parents. If it wasn't for him, imagine what this world be like. Imagine what _we_ would be like. We would've grown up alongside each other, Potter. Your parents would still be alive, along with my mum. Sirius never would've gone away. And there we be no final show down, no nightmares, no innocent people laying in graves right now because of him. We'd be enjoying this summer however we like, instead of hiding out and waiting for the next school year to start or the Last Battle to begin. We wouldn't have to question the loyalty of everyone around us, hoping that they aren't spies for the wrong side," he told him strongly, his voice raising.

Sometimes, when he was awarded a daydream, where his mind didn't take him far enough from reality into his dark mind, he was given reprieve to think of what life could have been like. He imagined he would've turned out to be a much nicer person, perhaps one who smiled often. Maybe he would've gone into Gryffindor, rather than Slytherin, and perhaps then he would've been friends with Potter, Weasel, and Hermione. Would he have liked that life? Could he adapt to that now? Was a nice person even in him?

What did it matter? The world was dark and segregated. Like he had said to Hermione, the world is not black and white, there are shades of grey. There are the good, the bad, the heroes, and the cowards. There are those who grew up in darkness but somehow have a spark of good in them, there are others who were raised by nice families but came out cruel. And these people will forever fight with one another for the ultimate victory, which only a hero can bring to the right side. Was he that hero? It's not bloody likely.

"What d'you want me to say?" Harry asked loudly, clearly getting riled by the conversation. Draco liked it this way, where emotions and thoughts weren't hidden, but spoken aloud. He hardly ever had the chance to speak to freely, it was invigorating. "Yes, Voldemort is the cause of all of that. Yeah, it's because of him my life isn't normal. No, I don't have my parents and life would've been a whole lot better if I did. But I'm not a hero, Draco. All of this Boy Who Lived and Chosen One garbage, it's not me! I'm just a kid, I'm just..."

Draco stared at him, taking in how utterly dejected he looked. While they had their similarities, they had a lot of differences too. Draco strived for the last fight, he waited on it every day. It was his dying wish to participate. He had put himself in this spot, forced his way into the whole of the War, while Harry had been drug in and told he had to comply.

Harry swallowed, shaking his head morosely. "I haven't been looking for vengeance since I was little. I was looking for a family, for someone to love me and take care of me. I didn't want to fight in a War or save the world. I wanted... I wanted to be normal. I'm not like you, I don't want to sacrifice everything I have, which is very little to begin with," he admitted, frowning to himself.

Draco shook his head, a faint sad smile appearing, "What we want and what we have to do, are two very different things. You say you don't want this task, but you prove every time Voldemort comes after you that you're willing to throw yourself into it for the sake of others. We don't choose the job, Harry, it chooses us. You're a hero whether you want to be or not, and you bloody well know that when he's standing in front of you, mocking the good of the world, you'll throw yourself head first into the fight to save everyone. It's who you are, who you were born to be," Draco told him, fiercely.

Shaking his head, Draco sighed. "I'm not trying to be a martyr or a saint, I'm retribution in the form of one very pissed off seventeen year old. And I've been waiting for the day where I get to see him fall to his death for seven years now, I'm not giving it up no matter what my time limit is. I don't care if I'm laying in my deathbed when the War starts, I will drag myself out and rip his head from his shoulders," he told him, darkly.

Harry shook his head, stepping forward with an expression of angry sorrow. "But you could do something better than that. You could give Sirius the son he's been waiting to have. You could- You could live a nice, quiet existence for awhile? Don't you want that? After all this fighting? The spying, the facade, the dark reality? Aren't you tired, Draco? Don't you just... Just want to rest," he asked, staring at him with wide eyes and a strained expression of hope. "You don't know how long it could be. Wouldn't you rather die happy than waiting on revenge?"

Draco sighed, frowning. "You want to believe that deep inside I'm a nice guy and that maybe I'll just play Exploding Snap and Quidditch until I take my last breath, but that's far from what I'll be doing." He threw his arm out, as if pushing the idea of relaxation away, "I plan, I strategize, and I take down the opponent with all the force I can. There is no mercy, there is no forgiveness in me. I grew up learning power is everything and if I want this done, then I do it myself.

"You grew up with Lucius Malfoy," Potter shouted, his face becoming red with his agitation. "Your father wants more for you. You weren't destined for this. You weren't supposed to be somebody who grew up learning to destroy. D'you think Elly would want that?" he asked, stepping over a boundary.

Draco's expression turned cold, darkening with his irritation. "You'd be surprised by what my mother wants," he told him, a scowl appearing. "Now unfortunately, since you're the Boy Who Lived, you're going to play a big part in all of this. Whatever you have planned, forget it. I don't want you going on some stupid journey to find some ridiculous cure." He stared at him, straightening until he was standing tall with pride. "There's nothing you can do, d'you understand? I have one thing to get done and it's the only thing I want. You want to make this better, you want to feel like you did something for me and didn't just wait for it all to happen, then you give me Voldemort's death before my own."

Harry sighed, shaking his head while he thought it through. "What are you saying? That you want me to _start_ the War?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"Not right this minute," Draco told him, shrugging. "I'm just saying that I want to see it before I go. Nobody can give me what I already lost, but I sure as bloody hell can make up for it. Now you can either join in and agree to get him out of the way as soon as possible, or you can step aside and let me deal with it. Either way, Voldemort is going to die."

Potter stared at him, unsure. "What d'you have planned?" he asked, lifting his brow with question.

"We're bringing the Order in, I already talked it over with Sirius. We have to find his Horcruxes yet," he reminded, his arms crossing over his chest. "He'll be less powerful with those gone. I think I know where some of them might be," he offered, his expression becoming masked. "But the only way I'm giving you that information is if you agree to the plan entirely. Which means you and Weasley don't run off in the middle of the night while the rest of us are sleeping, in hopes that you can save the rest of us 'poor souls' or some shite like that. We go in as a group, we work together, and we destroy it by all means necessary. It's all or nothing, Potter, take it or leave it," he told him, his tone free of emotion.

Potter stepped forward, staring him head on. "You're good at hiding how much all of this affects you Draco, but you're mask is starting to chip. You need me just as much as Sirius needs you. If I agree to this, then you have to agree to something too. No more mask," he told him, strongly. "No more hiding behind your emotionless expressions and sarcastic remarks."

"Sarcasm is part of the package, that's really not always an act," Draco told him, smirking.

"Fine, but you need to stop being such a dark figure around here. You want vengeance, fine! You want to spend your last time here strategizing Voldemort's defeat, good! But you are not going to leave Sirius wishing he had spent more time with you. He's your father and he's been trying to be that for a long time. I'm tired of finding him around the house, looking as if he's just escaped from Azkaban. We both know you care, so start acting like it," he told him, crossing his arms and standing to his full height.

Draco stared at him, his eyes sparking with amusement. "I believe we have a deal, Potter," he said, smirking.

Nodding, Harry half-smiled. "Good. Game of Quidditch then?" he offered, nodding toward the back door. The issue was pushed aside as if it was never spoken of, which Draco had to give Potter credit for. It was a smart move, one that kept him from getting Draco too agitated. It was rather odd how easily he offered friendship and alliance though, and Draco was mildly uncertain.

"Fine, but you get Weasley," Draco said, allowing the mask to fall just enough for him to half-smile. "And I promise I won't even sing the Slytherin version of, "Weasley is our king," this time."

"Good, you're not that good of a singer," Potter replied, crossing to the back door and throwing a smirk back at Draco. "Com'on _Black_, I'm still a little full from breakfast, that might just give you a little edge in the game."

"See, you were playing _Malfoy_ in the past, Potter, remember that not everything was as it seemed," he responded, walking out the door to find his father and uncle hovering up in the air.

"You can't really believe that you were holding back in the past," Potter said, shaking his head while he laughed lightly.

Smirking, Draco lifted his brow. "Wait and see," he said, taking his broom from where it leaned against the house.

* * *

After winning the Quidditch game, with his overly excited father on his side, Draco decided to relax in the house. Sirius had gone out for awhile to talk to Mrs. Weasley about something, and though he left Draco with an incredibly large grin, he knew he was going to talk about him. He wondered why it was Sirius wanted to discuss him with Mrs. Weasley rather than Remus, but he had noticed how his uncle and his father were rather distant ever since the letter from the Healer had come. Potter and Weasley were locked up in one of their rooms, still discussing their little mission. Draco left them to their business, deciding not to interrupt, if only to see if they manage to do anything interesting. He had given Potter his warnings and he hoped he heeded them.

Squirming around on the rather stiff sofa, Draco cracked, "Heartbreak House," open, only to find himself bored within a few moments. He'd been trying unsuccessfully to get into the book like he had in the past, but every time he started reading, he'd hear Hermione's voice in his head, and she always brought the book so much more alive.

Unfortunately, whenever she came into his mind, he was brought back to the day before. He had been shocked and overwhelmed by her sudden show of emotion. She had always been so business like when she talked about his condition that he hadn't expected her to suddenly break down. Sure, she had been concerned and surprisingly good to him while he was down, but he had no idea just how invested she was in his health. He was rather warmed by how much she cared, but he told himself not to get so close.

The way she so easily fell against him after her freak out, as if she trusted him wholly not to condemn her because of her inability to help him, was soul shaking. He had never really had anybody rely on him. He had only ever served himself and though Lucius gave him expensive materialistic things, Draco raised himself. While Dumbledore waited for his spying to pay off, Draco was the one watching his own back through it all. His friends were never really allies, but something to promote his image. The only Slytherin who ever got to know some semblance of the real him was Zabini, and even he didn't rely on Draco for anything. But here was Hermione, crying herself to sleep in his arms, trusting him to take care of her.

After he laid her down in his bed, he pulled the blue blanket Elly had wrapped him in when she went to Malfoy Manor up over Hermione's shoulders and brushed her soft curls off her face. That was the second the warning bells went off in his head. He had let himself get close, allowed himself to talk to her, to confide in her. It all hit him like a sudden fist to his face. He had told her the gist of his nightmares, of how hard it was for him to deal with what was going on. He had let himself speak to her freely, without calling on her blood background at any time to save face. He was slipping and she was the cause of it.

For some reason, he stopped shielding himself around her. He listened to her read to him with every fiber of him paying close attention to the ring of her sweet voice. He waited for the times she would come into his room, to bring him lunch, to comfort him after a nightmare, to just be around him. It got to the point where he found she was the only one he couldn't be annoyed with. He enjoyed her company, liked her honesty about everything, was grateful for how hard she tried to take his mind off the pain he was being suffocated by.

He knew she was there during almost every nightmare, he could feel her energy outside of him. There were moments while he was watching Elly as she was murdered in the bloodiest of ways when he could feel Hermione embracing him. It was different from the force that kept him from saving his mum, it was more comforting than anything. It staved off some of the pain and panic, to the point where he didn't feel like he was barely alive anymore.

He couldn't remember a lot from when he first woke up, but he could clearly feel her fingers against his forehead, her arm around his chest, her voice whispering soothing words against his ear. There was a part of him that relished in her touch. She had the softest of hands, he knew that from when she'd hold his hand or brush his cheek with the back of her knuckles, as if they were old friends. He also loved the scent of her shampoo, like fresh roses just after its rained, they always smell so much sweeter than regular flowers. She was different from others, he had known that from the beginning, he just hadn't embraced it until recently.

He didn't bring up how she held him while he came down from his nightmares. He didn't want to admit to himself that perhaps he had put a lot into her. She represented what he couldn't have, just like how Sirius stood for the family he had already lost, and Harry was the hero he wanted to be, but couldn't. She was the kindness he was never taught, the love he was never given, the bravery he hid behind a mask of indifference. And the problem with allowing her to become part of his life was that he knew what the end held for him. He knew that death wasn't far off and not only would it be hard for him to die like a courageous soldier who finished his mission, but he didn't know how easy it would be to go if he had someone to regret leaving.

Sirius, he would have Harry to make up for the son Draco would never really become. But Hermione, if he let himself, he would fall for her and perhaps she'd let herself feel the same for him. Love and emotion raid the mind, covering up the need for vengeance and pride. She could replace his deep seeded hate and he couldn't allow that. If he died loving her, without his vengeance, then he'll have unfinished business. And if he dies having completed his task, but still loving her, then he'll go knowing he was leaving behind someone special. He needed to do what he'd been planning all along, without interruption by his heart. While he might be able to give her some kind of friendship, he had to start shielding himself a little more. How he would manage this feat while still keeping his deal with Potter, he didn't know.

Letting the book fall onto his chest, he closed his eyes, massaging his temples as a headache came on. Death brought up far too many questions without answers.

"You okay?" called a hardly hidden concerned voice.

Sitting up, Draco turned to see his uncle leaning against the doorway of the den. "Yeah, just thinking," he replied, shrugging. He stared at Remus, taking in the droop of his shoulders and the withered expression on his face. "Are you?" he asked cautiously.

Remus attempted a smile, standing up and moving to walk over to sit down on the sofa across from him. "Yeah, sure, I'm... I'm all right," he told him, attempting to sound reassuring but failing. "Did you know... when you were a baby, you used to share everything you had with me. I mean, your mom would give you a cracker and you'd... you'd always break it in half and hand me the other part. Or if you were playing with a toy and I walked in the room, you'd give me something to play with too," he told him with a shaky laugh. He sounded so morose and wistful, but he refused to look at Draco for longer than a couple seconds.

"I sound like a pretty nice kid," he said, nodding with a small smile. It was obvious Remus needed this, even if it hurt to know he wasn't all that he could've been.

"Very," Remus agreed, nodding. He scratched his temple, his eyes staring down at the ground. "When, uh, when I found out Elly was gone, I... I asked everybody where you were. I kept begging somebody to tell me. I mean, I was your godfather and-- and-- We were close, you and I. I wanted to raise you, but nobody seemed to know where you had gone. I..." His voice was bitter, but he almost sounded like he was trying to explain himself.

"It's not your fault," Draco assured, nodding as he leaned forward and propped his arms on his knees. "They probably wouldn't have let you anyway, not if they found out about your monthly problem. It, uh, it means a lot though," Draco admitted, feeling immediately foolish. "It's kind of nice to know that someone really cared."

Remus nodded, before lifting his hands to cover his face. "When I saw you in that DADA class, I almost hugged you," he said, a soft, strangled chuckle escaping him. "You were right there and all I could remember was how you used to smile at me when you were a little baby. You were always so happy, Draco. Even while you were crying, you'd smile up at me like I was... like I was special to you, and..." He let out a quiet sigh, swallowing thickly and shaking his head.

"It sounds nice, being so happy," he said, smiling lightly. "Guess I took a wrong turn somewhere," he whispered.

Remus' hands fell, shaking before him as he raised his tired face to look at Draco. "I never had children of my own, but I remembered thinking that if I ever did, I wanted them to be like you. And I still do, Draco. You might think you're this hard, cold, unfeeling person, but I know you better than that. You hide it as if it's something to be ashamed of, but it's not. Feeling happy, having people rely on your and relying on others, that's good," he told him, his voice sounding as if he were really trying to change his mind about it all.

"Maybe," Draco allowed, shrugging. "It's been a long time though. It's not like its something I can just turn on and off. Sometimes I don't even mean to be indifferent, it just sort of happens." Sighing, he ran a hand over the back of his neck, feeling exposed. "I guess it's kind of bad timing for be to do a turnabout into the happy kid I once was though, huh?" he asked, not really expected an answer.

His uncle clenched his jaw sadly, his eyes falling for a moment. "Sirius doesn't think that, uh... He doesn't believe there's anything that can be done and I think... I think he's kind of accepted it. He just wants to spend as much time with you as he can, so don't blame him if he seems a little crazy with his need for you to be around him as much as possible. He's... He's not taking this well and I don't think he can really handle it all," he confided, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he's been acting a little... eccentric," Draco admitted, chuckling. "He's smiling a lot, it's kind of weird. It's almost nice though, to see him so happy. I know he's not really, but seeing it..." His eyes fell as his throat started to burn. He let out a self conscious laugh, his eyes moving around as they began to fill. He forced away any tears, he wouldn't cry, no weakness. "I don't want him to fight it though. I want him to accept it and I want him to move on when it's all over."

"Move on," Remus repeated, shaking his head. "I don't think he ever will."

"Potter will help," Draco told him, reassuring himself just as much as his uncle. "When there's no hope, sometimes we just have to accept things as they are. I don't want you to mourn this either, Remus. I know you're thinking about this. You want to go out and find some cure, but you have to stop. There's no help just sitting out there waiting for you to find it. Hermione tried, she... If she can't find it, it's not there," he told him, thickly.

Remus ignored what he was saying, instead smiling lightly as he nodded slowly, "She's convinced that we're all missing something. She's not in the study as much and she's sleeping and eating like a normal person, but..." Shaking his head, he sighed. "She's not giving up on hope, Draco, and I think there's a lot to be said about how much she believes you can be saved." Lifting his eyes, he stared at him. "She's a special girl, Draco. She's not like others. She's gifted and smart and she cares more about others than she does herself. When it comes down to it, she would throw herself in front of a curse if it meant you could have one more minute of life," he told him, his voice almost awed.

Draco snorted disbelievingly, though he knew what his uncle was saying was true, "It's a misplaced sense of devotion. She shouldn't be wasting her time. She should... She should focus on finding something worthy, like the Horcruxes or an alternate way to kill Voldemort," he muttered, turning away.

Remus sighed, running his palms over the sides of his jaw, whiskers left over from his staying at Grimmauld the last five days. "Sometimes, people goals are more concerned about living peacefully and happily, rather than getting revenge for those who've been wronged. You and Hermione, you're very different. She thinks about a future after the War, while you think of only up until that point. You want your vendetta filled, but what happens when it's all done, Draco? You've put so much into it, what happens when it's all done?"

"Remus," Draco sighed, shaking his head. "I'm done when it's done."

"No," he said, shaking his head with disbelief. "No, there's still hope. If you give up on a future then you give in. The Draco I know would never do that. He works and he works and he never lets anything take him down. He's devoted himself to a life where a wrong step could get him killed. He's faced the possibility of death at every corner since he was eleven years old and he never once stumbled. So don't you tell me you're giving in now, not when it's all getting to the point where you have something to live for," he told him, thickly.

He lifted his chin, staring at him defiantly. "You tell me that you can walk away from Sirius without feeling the least bit sad and I'll accept what you call the inevitable. You promise me that you could take the book from Hermione's hands and tell her it was hopeless, stomping on any possibility that she can help. You vow to me right here and now, that I have no chance to see my nephew grow old and I will give up on this _foolish_, _painful_ hope that one day, years from now, you and I will laugh at this conversation," he shouted, his voice hoarse with tears.

Draco winced, swallowing painfully.

"You tell me that, Draco. You tell me that it's all over. That I have already lost you and I will walk away. I'll stop hoping and I will accept it like Sirius has! I'll paste on a fake smile, I'll lift by shoulders, and I'll make a few sarcastic remarks." He stepped forward, staring down at him with filled eyes and a shaking chin. "Tell me," he told him, his voice shaking.

"No," Draco whispered, staring forward.

"Tell me," he demanded.

Draco lifted his gaze, "No," he said, a little more forcefully.

"Tell me, right now, Draco! Tell me you're going to die and that you don't care. Tell me it doesn't affect you. That you're fine with it. You've accepted it all and you can't wait for the end. Tell me and I'll believe you! I will if _you_ tell me. To my face," he yelled, grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him to a standing position.

Draco shook his head, trying to avoid looking at him as his heartbeat picked up and his chest ached with emotion.

Remus clamped a hand on both of his shoulders, holding his shirt so he couldn't just turn and walk away. He forced him to one spot, his eyes dark and his teeth clenched. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you are dying, that there is no cure and you have no hope left. Tell me that it's all over now, that I can stop hoping because there's no point. Tell me you want me to pretend that this doesn't hurt. That I can stop beating myself up every bloody day because I never told you that you were like a son to me, that I should have found you when you were a baby, that I should have got you out of there before these god damn nightmares killed you," he screamed. "TELL ME!"

"NO!" Draco screamed back, shaking his head furiously. "It's not okay! Yes, I'm scared, all right. I keep hoping Hermione will find it, that she'll read one of the stupid books and the answer will be completely clear! I keep waiting for her to tell me it's all going to be all right, that I'm going to live a long life."

Even he was shocked with his outburst. He had thought he was ready. He kept reassuring himself that when it all ended, he'd be okay with it. He hadn't realized that maybe he had connected with the people without meaning to, or that his regrets would overwhelm him. He had given Potter the right to take care of them, to do what he couldn't do by caring for his family, but he wasn't looking forward to leaving. In the past it might have been easier, back when he had nobody but himself and his vendetta. But now he had his father, his uncle, and an unlikely friend in Hermione.

Remus stared at him, his mouth hanging down and his eyes wide as his chest heaved with strangled breath.

Draco nodded, swallowing painfully, his eyes wide as he shouted, "And yeah, I want that. I want to grow old, telling stories to my grand children about the time when I was an eleven year old spy, making it sound a whole lot better than what it was. I want to tell my dad that I'm sorry I was so indifferent all these years, but I was trying to save myself from getting hurt. And no matter what I feel, no matter how much this hurts, or how scared I am that I'm going to die, no matter what I do, I still have some ridiculous hope, okay?" he asked, sounding almost hysterical as his breathing picked up radically with his fear and honesty. He stared at his uncle, his eyes searching.

Thoughts he didn't even realized he had were coming out of him, hopes for a future he never really thought much of. Grandchildren? That would mean he'd have to have his own kids, which would involve a wife. His mind flashed with a pretty brunette and he immediately shook his head. He was getting far too emotionally involved. He should just shut up, close off that part of his mind that had any investment in Hermione or family. He should close his mouth, push away his uncle and fall back into his facade. Harry's voice echoed in his mind, "_No more mask_." And for some reason he couldn't explain, he listened. His shell crumbled just a little more and he allowed himself to shout his fears, to pour out his real thoughts on what was going to happen to him.

Remus nodded slowly, his face twisted with understanding and sadness.

"And I have regrets," Draco exclaimed, his voice raw and shaking, "A lot of them. And time is short and limited for me so I should probably say them, but you don't know how hard it is to say any of it. You don't know what it's like to be raised to be quiet and without feeling, only to be completely consumed by so many feelings you can't breathe. You think it's easy being this god damn indifferent? You think it's fun holding in all this shite, well it's not," he yelled, shaking his head as his eyes filled.

He hated Lucius even more for turning him into this. Remus had reminded him that he was happy once, that he was a child who shared and adored his family. And he was taken from that, his emotions were ripped from him. He could have grown up in a loving family, with parents who truly wanted him to show what he was feeling. Elly would have wanted him to smile or to cry, to show his happiness or his anger. To be a real person, with feelings and emotion, rather than a robotic being, hiding it all away. He didn't want to be that. He wanted the time to become who he should have.

"And it's not easy to say goodbye," he told him, his voice breaking. "It's not easy to know that I have to leave Sirius, or Hermione, or you, because bloody hell Remus..." Closing his eyes, he breathed in heavily, shaking his head. "You are one of the closest people in my life and I can't... I can't tell you how much I've trusted you. I know that doesn't sound like much, but for me that's everything. I don't trust people, it's foolish. But you're practically my best friend," he admitted, his voice quiet and strained. "And I... I don't want to die," he whispered, letting out a shaking breath.

Remus yanked him closer, hugging him tightly. Draco shook, his back quaking as it all poured out of him. His uncle held onto him, accepting him as is, imperfections and all. "You're not going to die," he told Draco, hoarsely. "I won't let you. Hermione will find it, I know she will. You can't... You can't give up on yourself, Draco." He clapped his back, "Have I ever lied to you?" He asked, letting him go and stepping back to grin at him reassuringly.

Sniffling, Draco sighed, feeling utterly raw and exposed, an uncomfortable sensation that him feeling as if were standing on an edge, waiting for the inevitable fall. "There was that time you gave me paint for the living room and promised it wasn't a prank, but when I was done it started changing colour," Draco reminded, snorting. "And when you gave me the faulty hammer that always hit my thumb instead of the nail. Oh, and that other time when you told me Sirius' favorite meal was fried cat burgers."

Remus rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and turning to walk out of the kitchen. "Those weren't really lies, per say," he told him, waving his hand around as if to push the examples away. "Sirius hates cats," he offered, as if an excuse for everything.

Draco cocked his brow, looking up at him, "Well what about that time you--"

"Let's just say I've never lied about your health," Remus interrupted, nodding.

"That's not true. Remember when you told me that I had a rare skin disease, but really you had just charmed the mirrors to show me looking like a house elf. You told me I had to drink that disgusting drink you made every morning so I would get better, but I didn't have to!" he said, his tone raising.

"Well that drink wasn't that bad," Remus replied, shrugging.

"You never drank it!" Draco reminded, glaring.

"Well--"

"Draco," called a pleasant voice that made his stomach twist. He frowned down at his body, wondering what the feeling was.

Hermione appeared in front of him, looking flushed but happy. Her wild curls flowed down her shoulders and he stilled his hand from reaching out to take one and wrap it around his finger. He wanted to shake himself out of this infatuation he suddenly had for her and turn it back into a mutual friendship. His mind whirled with the conversation they had had the night before, where he held her soft hand in his. She looked so sweet, so convinced that the world had more good than bad in it. That good always triumphed over evil and self sacrifice was acceptable as long as everyone she loved knew she loved them. She was too good for him.

She held a book in her hands, clutching it like it was the answer to every question. "Okay," she said, nodding quickly, "I've come to a very big decision and I realize you probably won't like it, but you're just going to have to accept it. I don't like that Healer, I have reason to believe she's not who she says she is. So, I've come to the conclusion that most of what she said is wrong. I mean, really, it goes against everything I've read. What is one Healer against thirty five and three-quarter books?" she asked, staring up at him as if waiting for him to agree.

"I have absolutely no idea what you want me to say right now," Draco replied, looking confused. "What _are_ you going on about?"

Sighing, she gave him an exasperated look. He noticed she was rather cute when her nose wrinkled the way it was now, but then forced himself to focus. "Two things, really," she said, nodding. "One is that you are going to tell me everything about your nightmares, in as much detail as possible. If not me, then somebody. But you are going to talk about them. And two, I'm going to brew a potion for somebody to join you in your nightmares. From what I've read, there's a possibility that your mother is saying something vital. I think if we really decipher your dreams, then maybe we can... cure you," she told him, her eyes lighting up. "Well, what d'you think?" she asked, a hopeful smile appearing.

Draco glanced back at Remus, seeing his overwhelmingly relieved expression. She was asking him to do something he had avoided during the entire duration of his nightmares. It was painful to talk about them, not just emotionally but physically. And to bring them inside his dreams? He couldn't even fathom the idea. His father would want to go, he'd want to see Elly and what Draco had been through. But the pain of seeing her brutally murdered would haunt Sirius for the rest of his days. And he couldn't imagine having Hermione see any of what he did, she was almost innocent and the images alone would be her downfall, not to mention the agonized screaming. Then there's Remus, Draco didn't even want to consider what his uncle would do in the darkness of his mind, seeing his old friend destroyed while his nephew fell apart.

Could he bring them in, was he willing to expose himself that much?

* * *

**A/N** _Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. My new thing for this story is asking you who all you want to read for the next chapter. So, the vote came out as:_ **Draco **-_15,_** Harry** -_11,_** Ron** -_ 5,_** Remus** -_4,_** Lucius** - _3,_** Sirius** -_2._

_The next chapter can be chosen from the following:_

**_Harry  
Ron  
Hermione  
Sirius  
Remus  
Lucius_**

_Make sure to vote in your review, thank you all for reading._

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	15. 15

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_I absolutely love this story. It makes me thrilled everytime I see that you've updated it in my inbox. I know that there is a treat waiting for me, and you don't dissapoint. You've taken a DHr premise and made it about so much more. There's familial love and fraternal love and friends caring about each other...and it's quite well-written. I thoroughly enjoy it. Thank you for doing such a lovely job_." - **_Lady Katherine2_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter fourteen**: _geuxtigers06, mimublus-mimbletonia, volleyballgirl1988, Salvationarmorer, Kourui, Phoenixflame01, Abraxnia, livelife-loveHGDM, mindy, Hotkat144, bethygirl94, PrincessAsbach (Chelsea), hanna, spacesareoverrated, Hermione Lily Potter, thisDuckIsQuackers, grace, babygirl36554, Pam Briggs, bena24, Melmel, rahh!!, PS, **Dizi 85, Lady Katherine2, Laendra, sasmith, Shaggy37, sugar bumps, Maybaby525, Jester08**_ and_ especially **Jen'sLostER, anie smiles, Zarroc, **_and_** galloping-goose.**_

_**A Family Affair**_

-**15**-

It had occurred to Hermione that when the relatively suspicious house elf Dizzy had told her she was seeing something but not acknowledging it, she truly had been going in circles. As she read the books over and over, something kept jumping out at her but she disregarded it time and time again. She had assumed that it would do no good, especially when the word of a Healer had told her not to do it. But then, she couldn't help but remember the twisted way the Healer's face became excited when Draco screamed and writhed in pain, and her conclusion was that Poulk was obviously mentally instable. Therefore, she decided since the Healer was nutters, her ideas were too. And so she disregarded the letter that told her not to bring up Draco's nightmares, because she was sure they held the key.

After coming to this important revelation, she decided that all that had to be done was to convince Draco he had to discuss his nightmares while she made up the potion for him to bring someone inside his head. It was an important discovery and she knew that he really wouldn't be happy about what she had decided was best, but she had to make his mind for him. He hated talking about his nightmares, as well as Elly, and often said that it caused him pain. She was certain that he meant physical pain rather than emotional, which was a questionable position itself. But, it had to be done. Besides, what was a few hours of pain compared to a lifetime of death? While she questioned whether or not that made sense, she left the study to find him leaving the den with Remus.

After basically shouting nonsense at him about her plan, she frowned at his pointing that out to her. Explaining her idea, she waited in kind for him to tell her his decision. It was hard for him, she knew. After all, it had been a long seventeen years of his life left battling the images and now he'd have to speak of them, but it was vital. For him to ever overcome his fear and inevitable end, he had to discuss it. With her, with Remus, with anybody, as long as he talked.

She could see the indecision in his eyes. He stood before her, his gaze downcast and his arms crossed over his chest. She could also see the barely restrained hope in Remus' eyes, which is when she noticed the tear tracks on both of their faces. She wondered what happened, but judging by how comfortable they were standing beside each other she decided it must not have created a barrier between the two, which likely would have happened if Draco had fought with him, or anyone really. She was beginning to notice that his answer to problems was simply to ignore them or push the person who caused the issue away entirely.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she stared up at Draco, her questions all but leaping from her mouth. He looked so troubled and even though the potion Healer Poulk assigned him had driven away all the darkness around his eyes and the tired strain of his face, she could still see how haunted he appeared. Perhaps it was knowing that deep down he was still fighting death, but sometimes she looked at him and still saw the pained and sickly boy she used to take care of. Besides all that, she was captivated still by his handsome looks. Even with the furrow of his brow and the frown of his lips.

"Draco," she said, her voice quiet and her query in her tone.

He looked up, his eyes connecting with hers and she nearly stumbled back from the obvious emotion there in his silvery gaze. He was scared, worried, unsure, and more than a little hopeful. He had always taken up the side of being strong and accepting of his ailment and so she was slightly concerned by how fearful he was of what was happening. Was it the idea of hope that scared him? Of being given a possibility of life and then having it taken away? Or was it sharing the agony of it all?

She didn't know, but one minute she was standing in front of him and the next she was in his arms. She couldn't remember walking to him, but she knew that she was the one who initiated the hug. He didn't push her away or tell her not to be so sentimental like she had mildly assumed he might, but instead, he carefully hugged her back. He seemed new at hugging, if that were at all possible. Like he had been hugged few times in the past and rarely by someone he hadn't been expecting it from.

His head lolled down, face pressed against her neck while his his arms crossed over her back, holding her close. She wondered if she was clutching at him, because it truly felt as if she were. It could be her need for him to accept her plan that she was really holding tight to. She didn't want to let him go, not physically or spiritually. She wanted him to keep hugging her, to keep breathing for a real lifetime. Not one that was cut short by nightmares, but instead one that lasted far into the future. Where he was old and grey, and his features had dwindled to that of an elderly man who had lived a lifetime of adventures and mystery. His journey would end when he was good and ready, not unsure and young. Without blood and war, void of hate and murder. A natural death, one of a wizard and not a warrior.

"You're asking a lot," he whispered against her throat. "I don't know if I can give it all... My memory and the dreams, they're all so vivid and dark... To share them, to give that to somebody else would be..." He kept pausing, his words trailing off, but the meaning still very much there. His arms tightened around her, almost painfully so, but she let it happen, because he was drawing strength from it. "What if it doesn't work?" he wondered, his voice low and chilling with its worry.

"Then I find another cure," she replied, her voice shaky and full of the emotion she had been trying to hide from him. Could he feel the way she quivered? Hear the way her voice rasped with love and concern? See the unshed tears in her half closed eyes? "I can't give you a sure thing, but I can give you every possibility I can find. And if it's out there, I'll find it."

His thumb brushed against her side, sending a shiver down her spine that she forced herself not to react to too obviously. She could see Remus from the corner of her eye and wondered about the smile on his lips and the happy amusement in his eyes. He wasn't looking directly at her, but she felt as though his happiness derived partly from her. She had first thought it had to do with the possible cure, but there was something about his smile that told different about the source.

"Do I pick who I talk to about the nightmares?" Draco asked quietly.

Hermione nodded, her hand slid up and down his back, trying to relax him. "Yes, of course."

"How long does the potion take to make?" he wondered.

She felt him stiffen slightly but his question lit a hope inside of her. "If we start now, it can be done by tomorrow morning," she replied, hoping she didn't sound as happy as she felt. She was sure he had made his choice but she didn't want to push her luck.

He let her go slowly, his hands sliding over her back and resting on her hips. He stared down at her a moment and she felt mildly distracted by the fact that she already missed his arms around her. His frown was gone but there was no smile either. His eyes pierced her and she nearly fidgeted, feeling as though he were reading her every thought. She tried to keep her eyes on his, not wanting to come off as though his inquiring gaze made her uncomfortable. "All right," he finally said.

She smiled happily, a grin that nearly broke her face. She could hear Remus' whoop of agreeance behind him and she let out a short chuckle at his enthusiasm. Draco still didn't look entirely happy by the idea, but his allowance was all she needed. She took his hand and then turned to look at Remus. "Can you help me with the potion?" she asked.

"It would be my pleasure," he replied, nodding.

Happy, she turned and began making her way to the library. "Wonderful. Now, all we need are the following ingredients," she told him. After listing off the pricey and rather hard to find items needed, she waved goodbye to Remus, who was going off to Diagon Alley and various other places he knew of to find them for her, while she brought Draco into the study. She directed him to a chair beside the window, the only one not laden with books. He made his way over and sat casually down, without even realizing how completely mesmerizing he came off. The sun peeked in through the window, dropping beams of light over his tall form and shimmering off his golden hair. He was captivating really and she cursed her infernal hormones for such an inopportune time for them to make an appearance.

Clearing her throat, Hermione crossed her arms behind her back and worried her lip for a moment. "All right," she breathed, nodding, "d'you want me to get Sirius or d'you want to wait for him to get back?" she asked, lifting her brow.

Draco shook his head, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his abdomen. "No, I'm not discussing this with him," he decided, tipping his head back. "Not Remus either. The way I see it is, both of them would blame it on themselves for whatever I say. They already do really. Remus thinks he should have found me after my mum died, and Sirius thinks he should have done something so that my mum never would have gone to Lucius'." Shrugging as if it didn't bother him, he sighed. "So, that takes out two of the three people I can discuss this with, doesn't it?"

Hermione's brow furrowed as she stepped forward, confused. "I don't understand," she said quietly. "There are three people?"

Draco lifted his head, staring straight at her, his expression rather soft, if he could be that at all. "You," he said simply. He turned to the side, apparently not needing to see her reaction as he cleared off the chair nearest him and moved it so it was in front of him. "Come along, _doc_," he said, half-smirking. "Your patient is waiting for a _long_ session with you." His eyes fell for a moment, "There's a lot to be said, and a time limit is quickly ticking away."

Swallowing at his meaning, Hermione shut the door and put up the silencing charms. Moving to the seat in front of him, she sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. She tried not to sit up straight and let her shoulders slump a little so she wouldn't seem as worried as she was about what he might say. It was in her nature to hope the best of certain things. While she knew the world was not always a peaceful place and that a lifetime of nightmares was destroying his mind, part of her didn't want to think too much on the causes of such travesties. Knowledge and information are tools, but when a personal connection is made to the subject, feelings get in the way of objectivity. "Wh-where would you like to start?" she asked, cursing herself for stuttering.

He smiled gently, excusing her folly when he should be the one uncomfortable and worried and she the person comforting him. "The beginning, most likely," he replied, nodding. His voice had an air of disconnection, as if he were going to talk about somebody else's life. A person he only knew briefly, whose story he knew well, but had no actual part in. It was almost painful to hear, how he acted as though it wasn't him at all. He glanced back up at her, momentarily caught up in his thoughts. "My mother," he began, his voice quiet and surprisingly adoring, "she died when I was about a year and a half. Sirius had just been taken in for the murders of James and Lily Potter, thirteen muggles and Peter Pettigrew," he told her, the affection quickly diffused from his voice.

So many lives had been destroyed because of Pettigrew and Voldemort's plan to turn the blame over on Sirius. Her instant hate for the man grew even more after learning more of his involvement in the breaking up of families and orphaning of children. Both Harry and Draco had lost their parents because of him, in different situations and with separate results, but he had done it to them both all the same. She found a scowl on her face and tried to resolve the issue without Draco noticing. It was too late for that as he seemed to be smirking at her facial expression.

He tipped his head to one side, balancing it on his hand as he continued on with his story, "From what Narcissa told me, my mother had come to Lucius in hopes that he would somehow save Sirius. She believed he was actually part of the Death Eaters and she wanted somebody to help the man who had served Voldemort. For her question, her belief that Lucius should do something for her husband, he killed her. A simple Killing curse struck her down and she was left lying on the floor, limp and lifeless, while I crawled out from her arms and cried against her. Narcissa picked me up, wrapping me in the blanket my mother brought me in."

"The one upstairs, on your bed," Hermione said, her eyes far off as she took it all in.

Draco nodded, his eyes staring down at her clasped hands. "I'm not sure what they did with Elly after that, but I do know that her death eventually got out. How and where it happened were kept secret, and the whereabouts of me were never looked into by the Ministry. I believe Lucius had them well paid off for their secrecy and it was never spoken of again. As far as the Wizarding world cared, Draco Black never existed," he told her, his eyes lifting to catch her own, the intensity startling her.

"When did Narcissa tell you?" she asked, her voice barely controlled from its need to stutter. She had wanted to distract him, perhaps in hopes that the darkness in his eyes would fade some.

"When I was eleven," he replied, glancing away. "My Hogwarts letter arrived, with my real name on it," he said, nodding. "I found her crying one afternoon and she admitted everything to me. Showed it all in a pensieve. Which is when I realized that the woman in my nightmares was my real mother." His jaw clenched momentarily, his face falling drastically from its mask of indifference.

It was hard for Hermione to think of Narcissa crying, let alone being all that nice to Draco. It appeared as though his the Malfoy "parents" weren't all that caring. After all, they left him to deal with his nightmares basically on his own. She got the feeling that Draco was left alone most of his life, unless he did something that _warranted_ punishing or attention. She shivered at the thought, but kept her questions about the Malfoy's to herself, not wanting to deter him from his telling of what brought him to his nightmares.

"But Lucius doesn't know you know?" she asked, leaning forward slightly and crossing her legs so her tapping foot would stop clapping against the floor.

Draco shook his head. "No, Narcissa never told him and I thought it was better not to alert him of what I learned. It would ruin my plan," he explained, shaking his head. "When I got to Hogwarts, I immediately went to Dumbledore. I heard Lucius talking about him with all of his pureblooded friend with intense dislike. They always called him a sentimental fool and that he was too kindhearted for his own good. They had admitted his power though and I read about it in a lot of the books in the library. So I decided he'd be the person to go to with my new plan," he told her, nodding.

Hermione felt a knot form in her stomach. She dearly missed the wise old man who seemed such a large part of her growth during her Hogwarts years. She remembered his memorial well, a darkness hung in the air. Even now she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. He was such an important figure in the world, that it felt like a large gap had been made in his death.

Draco went silent for a moment, his hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. "Dumbledore wasn't very happy about my plan to become a spy. He said I was too young, that I would be risking my life at every turn. But when I told him that he had two options, one was that he told me not to be a spy and I continued to do so without letting him in on anything I learned, which he didn't like at all. Or the other, was that I would learn anything he wanted, along with what I wanted, and together we would build a case against Lucius and Voldemort. Given that he really had no choice, he agreed and I kept in constant contact with him. We wrote in code while I stayed at the Manor, and I met him whenever vital information crossed my path while I was at school," he informed her. His expression had darkened, more with pain than anger this time.

"Would you consider yourself close to Dumbledore?" she queried, unable to restrain the question. She didn't know if she could really call herself close to the strong and wise wizard, but she knew that she was much more acquainted to him than most students. Her, Ron and Harry all were.

He looked over at her, a battle raging in his eyes. She could tell he was wondering how to really answer her question. "In a way," he admitted, nodding shortly. "I did my best not to get close to people. I kept them all at an arm's length, but I guess... For a time, he was likely the closest person to me. I had nobody else and he was the only person I really trusted." His tone was quiet, melancholy in its wistfulness.

His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes fell, tears collecting but vanishing so quickly she wasn't sure they were ever there. "When I was holding a wand at him, it was... the hardest thing I'd ever done in my entire life," he told her softly. "He stared up at me with these eyes that knew I would never do it and I... I couldn't," he breathed, his voice raspy. "I kept telling myself it was for the greater good, that it would get me close to Voldemort, to my goal!" His voice was raising, as if we were still trying to convince himself.

"But... All those years, all those times I spent in his office, telling him of what I had learned, or what I thought. While he... He just offered me lemon drops and-- and-- and somebody to talk to when I needed it. I... Merlin, I wanted to kill Voldemort so bad, but when it came down to my vengeance or his life, I couldn't..." His eyes fell shut and he shook his head, his chin quivering. "He was my mentor for six years, the only person who ever gave a damn about my life, and I was standing there, holding the means to his death."

She wanted to comfort him, but she was stuck with her mouth hanging down slightly and her ears waiting anxiously for his next words.

"And I finally came to the decision that I was _his_ spy, I was _his _student. He taught me everything. He kept me safe, he watched out for me, he never even told Snape what I was doing for him. And I was trying to figure out what I could do, how I could get him out of there. He was already sick from something, he was so frail. But before I could do anything, Death Eaters came running through the door and I just... I froze. Fenrir Greyback was right there alongside them and by the Gods, I was so shocked I didn't know what to do." His face curled with disgust, "Then Snape, he just... He came striding through the door as if everything was fine and I thought maybe,_ maybe_ he would be the one to save Dumbledore. But he just... killed him, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. And before I knew it, I was being dragged away from him, from the only man I had ever known to care."

Hermione found herself leaning forward, deep into his explanation and nearly begging to know what happened next. He looked so broken and lost, and his eyes made her think he was there again. As if he were reliving every moment, hearing every word, seeing the murder again. She wanted to reach out, to take his hand and reassure him, but she could tell from his stiff posture that he didn't want pity or understanding, he wanted to get it all out with no interruption.

His breathing had picked up some, coming out in quick, short pants, "I didn't know what to do. Snape had told me about the attack already and so I had a bag packed out my the gates. After we got outside of the grounds, I went for my stuff and apparated near here. I... I went to Sirius thinking he was the only one who would ever understand."

He shook his head, his brow furrowing and his eyes moving with deep thought. "It was confusing. Ever since I saw him back in the summer after third year, I had done all I could not to let him close. But he was the first person I thought of to keep me safe after what had all happened. And I guess... I mean, I think... I wanted somebody to tell me that I wasn't wrong. That I was forgiven or that they understood. At the time, I was so distressed and scared, I just..." He inhaled thickly, shaking his head again. "Everybody was going to be out looking for my head on a pike and I needed to know that somebody knew I wasn't a killer."

"And Sirius trusted your word," Hermione whispered, knowing without a doubt that Sirius would trust Draco at nearly anything he said. He could read his son without even trying. Knew when he was being evasive or speaking with a cunning twist of his words. Sirius knew his son much better than probably Draco knew, and he loved him enough to stand behind him through anything.

"I didn't know that at the time," Draco replied. "I was running on hope rather than logic."

"It was a logical hope. He's your father, he's supposed to love you unconditionally. And he does," she told him, smiling lightly.

"I suppose he does," Draco responded, his mouth quirking on one side. Sighing, he left any happiness behind to continue on. "And that was how I got here," he told her, nodding. "As for the nightmares..." Swallowing, he tapped his chin, his eyes lifting to one side while he thought back. "I can't remember when they started, but I know they were happening as far back as my memory goes, which was very young."

Turning his head back and forth, he frowned. "When I was a small boy, I never really saw Elly's death. She'd spend most of the dream talking to me, or singing. Her words were always quite cryptic though. She never said any name but mine and she never touched me until the very end. More often, she'd just sing to me. The same song every time, a lullaby of sorts. Her voice was soft, melodic to begin with. And then at the end, she'd kiss my forehead or my cheek and she's run her hand over my head, hugging me to her quickly. She'd tell me to be careful and safe. Then she'd be drug away from me, the fear written all over her face as she reached out to hold my hand just one last time," he breathed, his expression strained.

Glancing at her momentarily, his expression softened after he must have noticed the tears littering her eyes. He gave her a small smile, as if trying to reassure her that it was all okay with him, that he was fine. And that just made her heart torn all the more. He had kept all of this in? For such a small boy it must have been terrifying. She tried to reign in her emotions, hoping that she hadn't deterred him from his story. He wasn't suffering from the effects he usually did when he spoke of Elly and she wondered if that was a side effect of the potion Healer Poulk had sent him.

His smile withered away and his expression turned dark once more. "As I got older though, things began getting worse. She started talking to me about a deception and how things I was being told were a lie. They didn't turn until I started being a spy for Dumbledore oddly enough. Then she began to speak to me as if I could help her out of death," he told her, his eyes thinning and his head cocked to one side. "She never explained it though. How I could save her or who was lying to me. She just repeated herself and told me I was the only one who could unlock the secret."

"Did she give you any particulars? Dates, occurrences, whereabouts?" Hermione wondered, rather wishing she had a piece of parchment for her to write everything down on. Something told her she would remember his every word anyway, but she liked to be thorough and so she guided her eyes around the room in search for writing tools. She spotted her used parchment on the floor and walked over to pick it up, along with her quill and ink. Making her way back to her seat, she returned her attention to Draco. He was staring far off, his expression nearly wistful.

His attention returned to her and he shook his head. "No, she said that there was a lie that affected my life. That it had dire consequences and I had to remember it or all would be lost." Shaking his head with annoyance, he frowned. "I racked my brain, but she was so vague about it there was really no telling what it could be." Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair with frustration. "I kept asking but she never explained it any better." He looked over at her hand, watching it pen out his words before he smiled lightly.

"What?" she asked, glancing over at him.

"Nothing. It's just a little refreshing to see your studious side come out," he explained.

Hermione grinned, inwardly agreeing that it was nice to feel like her old self. Back before she was searching for cures to mental ailments and befriending a boy who had faked hating her, only to have herself create feelings for such boy. She had done her best to keep them very much hidden and had high expectations of herself never becoming the bumbling, stuttering, idiot that many girls turn into when they come to the conclusion that they like someone. A blush crept up into her cheeks and she hoped he hadn't noticed. Her hair fell off her shoulders, brushing against her flaming cheeks.

Draco cleared his throat, effectively bringing her mind back to the present. "Those nightmares ended with her being killed, but it was never as brutal as it is now. Sometimes a green light would come out of nowhere, only to strike her down. Others she would suddenly stop being capable of breathing. She'd gasp and struggle, clawing at her throat, but no air would come to her. There were a few times that the dark, fiery hand that takes her away, it would come out and wrap around her neck, only to break it and drag her back into some kind of black pit." Shaking his head, he ran his hands over his face, looking worn out and tired from the conversation and the past.

Hermione wanted to give him a break, but at the same time didn't want to give up possibly her only chance in getting him to open up. Time was of the essence and if she gave in, she might not get vital information. She kept quiet though, letting him gather his thoughts and how he was going to continue with his telling of his nightmares.

"Recently though, I think maybe when I came her, the nightmares got worse, almost urgent," he told her quietly, his fingers pressed up against the side of his mouth as he spoke. "They seemed to get more graphic with the more she said. But she only continued to say more to me, to warn me more often. Now she hardly tells me things like how she's proud of me, or that I'm doing something good by working to tear Voldemort down. She's saying more about how I have to save us. How I'm the only one who can do it and that I know something nobody else knows. At least nobody who will do anything with the information." He grimaced, an annoyed expression crossing his features.

"What do you see?" she asked, quietly, not even sure she wanted to know. Her mind was consumed for a moment with the terror ridden look on his face, the echoing of his screams and the strain of his body against the turmoil in his mind. She felt her back strain, her eyes widen and her mouth become taught with scared anticipation.

Draco stared at her a moment, looking unsure and mildly worried. He swallowed, his eyes turning away and his body tightening to her question. "It changes dream to dream. Each one is a more graphic and painful murder. It's never a really a person, but something that doesn't seem to have a purpose or even nature."

Hermione's brow furrowed, wondering about how nature could play a part.

"She began melting once, for absolutely no reason except she touched me. She burst into flames another time, they came out of her stomach and consumed her. A bolt of lightning came down to finish her off that time. And I had to watch her drown recently. I couldn't get to her, but I was forced to watch from above as she struggled and screamed, the water consuming her until she was bloated and spasming, her eyes sticking out from the pressure." He swallowed, shaking his head and pulling himself together to continue speaking.

Hermione's hand lifted to her throat, touching it as it began to burn with intense emotion.

His jaw clenched and his eyes fell closed for a moment, where she worried that the pain had returned from his speaking about it. The way his mouth began to quiver and his hands shook though, made her think that maybe the remembering it all was what hurt now.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and laden with emotion, "It's usually very bloody and she's left screaming and thrashing, begging for somebody to help. But I can... I can never get to her. It's like there's someone holding me back and making me watch it all. If the hand doesn't come for her, then she turns to charred dust and she's taken away by the wind." He let out a heavy, shaking breath. "I'm let go after that, where I usually pass out and wake up here."

His words echoed in her mind, and she couldn't imagine the carnage he witnessed. She couldn't think of seeing what he had, experiencing what he had seen, and coming out as strong as he had. Her shoulders felt slumped and her mind heavy with the words he spoke. Would she have made it as far as he had? Could she have bared seeing her mother like that? Anybody like that? Could anyone really bare to see what he had? It was horrific and she wanted to take it all from him, to eradicate it from his mind.

Shaking his head, he frowned, his eyes falling to stare at the floor. Tears nearly made their way down his face, but he ran a hand over his eyes, effectively ridding them from himself. "She always apologizes for causing me the pain, but she says she can't stop coming back to talk to me. I wonder if she because I sometime want her to, or if its her that needs to be there." He shrugged, acting aloof after his interesting statement. "She tells me to tell dad too, that I need to share it with him," he said, his voice quiet.

"Why didn't you?" Hermione wondered, speaking before she thought. She hadn't meant to interrupt him or even question his need not to tell Sirius. She didn't want to overstep any boundaries and he didn't have to answer to her. Her job wasn't to tell him what he should have done or chastise him for past behavior, but to listen and take notes of it all.

He looked up at her, his eyes registering a small glitter of surprise. For a second, she wondered if maybe he forgot he was telling her anything. That he hadn't remembered he was discussing it aloud, but had fallen so far into his thoughts, the point of talking about them had failed to come back to him. "I... It would mean opening up to him, I suppose. And I never spoke to anybody about them. I didn't even know he knew about them until that morning when it all went haywire," he admitted, shaking his head.

"I think part of me wanted to pretend they weren't happening. It was just another reminder that I wasn't like normal boys my age and I was tired of being so different." He spoke so honestly that she felt momentarily touched. "I kept telling myself it was a matter of trust, that he hadn't earned it and I wouldn't give it to him. But... I think I always trusted him, perhaps as much as I did Dumbledore. It was saying it aloud that I had a problem with. Admitting what was happening in my head, saying how much it hurt, knowing that I had a weakness," he explained bitterly.

Hermione could understand what he meant, but she still felt the need to tell him it was a weakness _thrust_ upon him, if even a weakness at all. "D'you think survival is weakness?" she asked, her brow quirking.

"Of course not," he replied, his brow furrowing.

"But what you did, what you went through, you survived through it. You took it all, you said nothing, and still you came out a more courageous and strong person than most. You were thrown into a dark life, one where it was hard both awake and asleep, but you pushed through that with hopes of finding something better. You wanted good to overrule bad and you fought for that. Behind the scenes, you searched for a way to right what had happened to your family, to you," she told him, her voice raising with her pride in him. "You survived, Draco, and that's all anybody could possibly expect from someone who has gone through what you have." She stared at him with wide eyes, wanting so much for him to understand the full intensity of her words.

"I barely survived and that life gave me this," he reminded, his tone even but his eyes fierce. "I look at people like you, like Potter, and I see the kind of person I wanted to be. Someone who can express what they think, how they feel. I see someone who doesn't need to hide behind a mask or lies to get what they want or need. You fight for the right side openly. You speak your fears, your beliefs, your intentions aloud and nobody can take that from you," he told her, his voice raising slowly.

"You have that in you," she said, leaning forward to look at him head on. "It's there, inside, you just haven't let it out. There are occasions where you let your walls down, where you let your heart speak instead of your cautious mind, but I know you have it in you. I've heard you with Sirius or Remus, or even Harry," she said, smiling lightly. "Bits and pieces, but I know that you're being honest. I can hear it, I can tell when you've thought out your answer or when it's come to you right then. You..." She sighed, shaking her head. "When you talk to me, Draco, to you think it out first? Do you take the time to try and figure out what I'll say next?" she wondered, her eyes staring into his searchingly.

He frowned, his brow furrowing. "No, but--"

"No! See," she told him, her expression picking up and a happy smile tugging at her mouth. "There are some that bring it out and others that force it from you. Some you just don't want to share it with and that's fine, it's probably saved you a time or two. But, Draco, you are not a block of ice. You're human! You have feeling and-- and-- emotions! You think and speak like all the rest of us, perhaps a little quicker, but the same!" She shook her head, in hopes that what she was saying was getting through. "You're careful, but that's fine. I think all of us are careful about certain things. You've learned to guard yourself, to keep part of you hidden, but that doesn't mean it's not there!"

He stared at her, looking rather taken aback by her proclamation. "I wouldn't call myself normal by any means though," he said, looking uncertain.

"Because you're not," she told him, shaking her head. "Normal is boring. Overrated, really. It's studying in school and hoping to get those good grades so you can have an utterly boring job in future. It's leading an existence of work and meaningless conversations with people you really don't care to talk to. It's lifeless and void of anything interesting. But you, you are interesting and full of life. You have a goal, a plan for the betterment of the future. You look to keeping the world free of the one force that will rock all those normal people from their boring existences," she told him, nodding with vigor.

"Now normal may sound nice and abnormal hard, but I can tell you one thing you have on any normal person," she said, her brow lifting with conviction, "You have a story. One that can be told forever. You have a legendary presence, a myth in progress, an adventure to be shared. You are the hero amongst the average, and they will forever speak of the man who gave them their boring existences back. Because before they too could run headlong into a terrifying and world shaking battle, to fight for their right to be what and who they are, you did it for them. You lived the life of which stories are made of," she told him, smiling warmly with tears filling her eyes.

She nodded, blinking furiously to rid herself of the telling tears, "And one day, hundreds of years from now, wizards and witches will tell their children of the wizard named Draco, who helped save the world, for all those normal people. The one who put his own life behind him so he could stand up for his parents and take down the man who crushed the likes of you ever having normal. And they'll all say they want to be like you. And you know why? Because normal is boring and you are the stuff of which legends are born."

Draco had leaned forward at some point while she was speaking, she couldn't remember when it happened, but she now registered how close he was to her. She could practically feel his breath on her face. His eyes were close enough for her to see specks of black and ocean blue swirled in the captivating silver. A strand of his honey coloured hair hung down by his eye and she had to still her hand from reaching out to brush it away. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, overwhelming her senses. She was worried she'd make a fool of herself and do something rash. If she kissed him, would he kiss her back?

"You're a complicated girl, Granger," he whispered, his breath beating against her hopeful lips.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, psychologically anyway, she furrowed her brow. "I am?" she asked, surprised.

"Mm," he agreed, nodding. "I can't figure you out. After everything I did to you, why are you treating me at all nice?" He didn't really look suspicious, so much as interested in knowing the real reason behind her compassion.

Hermione turned her eyes off in thought, hoping not to get too distracted by his gaze and make herself look like quite the idiot. "I wanted to know the real you," she admitted, nodding.

She turned back to see his reaction, only to find the breath knocked out of her. He was smiling, and not just any smile. It wasn't a smirk or a half-smile, or even the small smile she'd seen in the past. It was a real, genuine, warm smile. And she was overwhelmed by how utterly handsome he looked when he broke out in such a grin. She remembered the photo on his nightstand, she'd often take a look at the beautiful Elly, the women who had given birth to her brave and complicated son. It was just like hers, beautiful and embracing, as if he were taking her right into his arms and hugging her with all of the emotion she could possibly ask of him.

Getting her wits abouts her, she further explained. "When I realized that you weren't who I had thought you were all along, but instead someone else entirely, well I thought it would only be right if I took the time to get to know the real you," she told him.

"And?" he asked, turning his head slightly to the side.

"And what?" she wondered, her brow lifting with confusion.

"And what did you find out about the real me?" he queried, his grin still present.

She had a million responses to that, all revolving around her new infatuation with him. It was her fear that stopped her, the nagging thought in the back of her mind that his trust did not come easily. If she were to kiss him now, or to proclaim that she found him to be utterly enchanting, would he lose his faith in her? Would he assume that she was trying to help him, to get to know him, out of selfish reasons?

She wasn't though, that was certainly not the case. She wanted him alive because he deserved to be alive. Because Sirius deserved to have a son, and Remus a godson and nephew. She was doing it because the world needed more people like Draco. Heroes that were willing to save them all from certain destruction. Because she loved him for all that he was and all that he will be. All that he can give the world and make of himself.

"I--"

"I have everything," Remus announced, walking into the room with his arms containing a box of ingredients. "It's all here! Every last thing. I got three of everything just in case we mess up in our excited haste," he told them, a grin showing on his happy face.

He looked better than he had in years, Hermione admitted to herself. She hadn't seen him look this young in all the time she'd known him. He stared at them, and Hermione found herself shifting awkwardly as she thought back to what she had just been thinking about the boy sitting in front of her.

"I haven't walked in on anything intimate have I?" he teased, his grin turning to a smirk and a brow lifting with his question.

Hermione, feeling exposed and foolish shook her head. "No, actually we've just finished discussing Draco's nightmares and such. It was very... enlightening," she told him, nodding. She turned back to Draco, a small smile on her lips. "A story for the ages, one that I'm sure will have a happy ending," she said quietly, so only he could really hear her. He stared at her a long moment, one side of his mouth lifting as he nodded shortly. "We should get to work on this potion," she told them, standing up from her chair and stretching her back. "Let's make certain Ron and Harry don't come in though, or we might just need to use your reserve ingredients," she sighed.

"They're not as bad as Longbottom," Draco reminded, quirking his brow as he walked over to the desk where Remus had dropped his box.

"Nobody is as bad as Neville though," she told him, swishing her wand to do a locking charm and making her way over to stand beside them. "Not that Neville couldn't do better without someone more patient as a teacher," she added, softening the blow to her good friend.

Draco snorted but made no more comment.

A few hours later, after the potion had properly and carefully been put together, they left it to sit for the set amount of hours, sure that it would be ready bright and early the next morning. Remus told them he was going over to the Burrow in hopes of telling Sirius all about the potion and explaining it all to him. He looked like an excited kid on Christmas and Hermione couldn't help the grin that surfaced. He was off in an excited skip and was practically hopping in the fireplace as it took him away to his best mate.

Her and Draco made their way into the kitchen to have something for dinner, noticing still that Ron and Harry hadn't been seen for some time. When she asked Draco, he shrugged, but looked as though he just didn't want to explain their whereabouts rather than he didn't know. She decided they were fine, seeing as Draco hadn't alerted her to their surprise disappearance or an unlikely attack in their bedrooms.

Draco sat up on the cupboards as Hermione picked through the fridge trying to find something on the many platters of food for them to eat as a proper evening meal. She knelt down, her head practically inside the fridge while he swung his feet back and forth, leaning back on his elbows and watching her. She could feel his gaze on her and worrisome questions ran through her head. Did her hair look frizzy from behind? Was her shirt riding up? Did she look ridiculous this far into the fridge? Could he tell she was blushing like a preschooler with a crush?

"Get any farther in there Granger and you'll be sitting on our dinner," he called out, amusement evident in his tone.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Oh honestly! I couldn't sit in here if I really wanted to. There's too much food, and none of it seems to make a proper and healthy meal!"

"It's summer, live a little and lay off the carrots," he told her easily.

"Did you know carrots actually have sugar in them?" she asked, coming out of the fridge to look at him curiously. "Well, not entirely, you see, carrots are rich in carotenoids, which may be beneficial to blood sugar regulation. Research suggests that physiological levels, as well as dietary intake, of carotenoids may be inversely associated with high blood sugar levels."

He stared at her a moment, his brow lifting before he said, "As shocking as it sounds, I never actually looked up the nutritional facts on carrots."

Hermione felt herself blush mildly, but instead of acting as though she had just blurted out something very pointless, she stood up and took on an expression of being aloof, as if it was his loss for not knowing. She rested her arm on the door, frowning up at him. "I'm afraid all there is to eat is various platters of cheese, crackers, pickles, and meats. Unless you want a sandwich and soup that is," she told him.

He grimaced, his eyes turning off. "I've had my fill of sandwiches and soups thank you," he told her, nodding.

Shrugging, Hermione pulled out a couple plates of the food and placed them on the counter. She distracted herself with taking the charms off each plate to keep them fresh. She could feel his presence behind her and wondered what he was thinking. By tomorrow she would be handing someone a potion to delve into his mind and she couldn't help but wonder how they would fare. He had only given her the bare minimum of his nightmares and they had completely shaken her. But part of her really wanted to go. The part that struck her hard though, was that one of the reasons she wanted to witness it was because if he did die, then she could know that she knew all of him and still loved him. Was that selfish of her? Wanting to know all of him, even if it was partly at his cost?

Her eyes began to fill with the weight of her thoughts. What if all this was for nothing? What if she really was getting his hopes up? Not to mention her own, Remus', and Sirius'. What if the potion didn't work or if they didn't know anymore than he did when whoever went in came out? What if in the end, she had to sit by his bed and hold his hand as he drifted away? Or if she had to witness him drain away like the man from the books had? What was his name again? Dear Merlin, she didn't remember his name. What if she forgot Draco one day? She always remembered information, so why did she forget the man who died from what Draco has? What if...? What if...?

She had been shaking so bad her wand had fallen from her hands, clattering on the counter top before it rolled away and fell to the floor. Tears leaked down her face and she tightened her jaw to stop the sob from escaping. She closed her eyes tight, hoping to reign it all in before Draco noticed. It was of no use though, because a pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, before he pulled her back against his chest and held her tight. She broke then, the cry slipping out of her mouth and her legs buckling beneath her. He held her up, while she sobbed for the possible future, the pain of his past and present, and the hopelessness of her devotion to him.

Before she could say anything, he spoke, his voice rumbling in his chest and echoing in her ears. "If this doesn't work, I want you to remember what I tell you, word for word. My mum said something like it to me once and I didn't really listen to her," he told her, his voice thick and strong while she felt small and weak. "There are some things I want you to be free of, because I was often consumed by them and I don't want you to go through what I did." He tightened his embrace, leaning his head down to place his chin on top of her head. He inhaled depply, "You must have no regrets, no fears, and no darkness to recede into. You have to live in the light, where the birds chirp a lullaby and the heart beats a song. It's far too easy to live a life of mistakes and wrongdoings, but I want you to have one where you know that you did your very best and there is no reason to look back and feel sad," he told her thickly, sounding almost as if he were speaking through clenched teeth. He inhaled shakily, before turning his head down to kiss the top her head lightly. "No matter what the outcome, you did your best doc, and that's all I can ask from you. D'you understand?" he asked, strong and concerned.

Unable to speak, she nodded, her hands holding onto his arms around her. Tears still slipped from her eyes and she felt him rock her slowly, his chin moving to lay on her shoulder as he hummed a familiar tune, a lullaby of sorts, that sounded much like the one Dizzy would sing while she cooked or cleaned. His face moved to press against hers and she inhaled a shaky breath, letting it out in a content sigh. He felt warm and comforting, and she was reminded once more of how often he seemed to be helping her rather than the other way around. How twisted their relationship was. He was the one who should be crying over lost days and his limited time on Earth, but instead he lulled her into peace, making her fall all the more in love with him.

* * *

**A/N** _Hey guys, as you can see Hermione won the vote. It was a very small win though, by simply one point. Hermione won it with **15** while Harry came in with **14**. Because of this one decider vote, I've already written the next chapter in Harry's POV. So no vote this time, but there will be one after the next chapter is posted. I don't like to vote until I'm sure everyone has read though, so leave a review letting me know what you think. Thank a lot, and I hope you enjoyed this one. It was mostly Dramione, though nothing too heartfelt until they end. They get closer, just you wait._

_Thank for reading, please leave a review!_

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	16. 16

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_i just started reading your story today and i must say that i've never cried so hard while reading anything else in my life. it was so...emotional! every sentence of each and every conversation had all this raw emotion flooding through it, and i was sobbing all over my keyboard. you have made every character PERFECT; even better then the books. draco is such an enigma and you just made him the most beautiful, perfect draco anyone could ever have written. same with sirius, remus, hermione, harry, and everyone else in this story. please don't make this story have an unhappy ending! i would seriously die if it did. and that whole fair thing really had me bawling endlessly. i loved the part where sirius screams, "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO TO THE FAIR!". once again, it was so...emotional. there's just no other word for it. i also love it when draco and remus have their conversation in chapter fourteen, i think. it made me cry so badly! the tears were flowing endlessly. anyways, i hope you update soon because your story is absolutely BEAUTIFUL. there's just no other way to say it._" - **_WinnieThaPoo92_** of FanfFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter fifteen**: _Laendra, starzstruck-1, Airlady, Jester08, sugar bumps, Pam Briggs, mike tike tofu, bethygirl9, mane, sasmith, grace, Zarroc, min, green envy1120, some silly girl, mimbulus mimbletonia, aperfectattitude, **xX Jk Rowling The 2nd Xx, MissDitzy, Shaggy37, Caligirl-HPLVR, devotedhpfan, Maybaby525**_ and _especially_ _**WinnieThaPoo92****, annieca**_, **_niic smiles_**, and **_galloping-goose_**.

_**A Family Affair**_

-**16**-

"No, I'm going in and that's final. Hermione, how many are able to go in by this potion?" Sirius said, turning to look at her with a determined expression.

They had been fighting about it for the last half hour. After the potion was finished, Hermione had collected everyone together in Draco's bedroom. He hadn't been allowed to sleep given that it would be earlier morning when he finally took it. They needed to be sure that he would be tired, and so he stayed up all night play Wizard's Chess and, much to his chagrin, Exploding Snap with everybody. He went six games of Chess with Ron before he finally gave in and admitted that the boy was better than him at the game.

Ron, overly excited by it, made a loud whooping noise, waking Hermione who had been sleeping behind Draco on the couch. She bolted upright, confused and looking lost. Draco, annoyed with Ron for waking her; lobbed a pillow at his head, which flew past the ginger haired boy when he tucked and so the pillow hit Remus instead. This effectively started a prank war between Remus and Sirius against all three boys. Hermione fell back to sleep and they all agreed to stay out of the den for her sake. She refused to go to her bedroom because she wanted to be near the potion when it was done and it wasn't supposed to be moved much while it was setting, so stairs and hovering were out of the question.

By morning, upon her waking when the potion let off a whistling noise, Hermione found them looking like complete idiots. Harry's hair had been charmed to look like orange grass, while his glasses resembled a long purple polka dotted snake in a figure eight. His clothes were all bright colours and too small for his frame. While Ron had to deal with his talkative freckles, which were all speaking phrases that only he could really hear, all making fun of the Chudley Cannons. He was also dressed in a dreadful red shirt that blinked annoyingly. Draco had effectively managed to get out of the way of most pranks in the earlier half of the war, but he too walked around wearing women's high heels stuck to his feet and his hair had grown a dramatic amount. As it was, he stood in front of Hermione, his arms crossed and his head flicking his hair back because it kept falling in his face.

Both Remus and Sirius were the funniest though, having turned on each other in the end. Now bearing high pitched voices that made them sound surprisingly feminine, they had thrown glamour charms at each near the end. Sirius' enlarged nose sported a gigantic mole and his forehead sported the word, "Poodle." Remus on the other hand, had miniature wings sticking out his back which flapped whenever he laughed. He also had hair that resembled Snape's oddly enough, while he held a purse stuck to his hand.

Hermione, though she laughed for the first few minutes, eventually took all the charms off. The situation soon fell down on them again and they were now standing in Draco's room, discussing who would be going into his nightmare with him, not a conversation Draco seemed to be enjoying. Remus was definitely not going in. Harry was fairly sure it was because the amount of people able to go in was limited and Remus knew Sirius would rather take his place. He was going to stand post though, not in the room, but nearby if anybody needed his help. Sirius wasn't backing down on going into the dream and Harry had already been chosen as the person Draco wanted. He wasn't sure if it was because he was the least close to him in the house, besides Ron, or if Draco trusted him.

Draco was propped up in his bed, his back against the headboard, shaking his head and scowling darkly. "You're only hurting yourself," he muttered to his father.

"Three can go in," Hermione answered Sirius, looking worriedly at Draco. She sat down beside him, reaching out to put a hand on his crossed arms. "This could help. The more people, the better chance of really understanding what it is she's saying."

"How is knowing what she's saying going to stop my nightmares?" he asked, shaking his head slowly with question. Harry noticed that Draco's voice held no edge with Hermione, while he was being disgruntled with everyone else, he was simply trying to understand her. He didn't know why Draco was so close to Hermione, or when it really happened. Part of him wanted to question what Hermione thought she was doing, cavorting with the enemy, but at the same time, he kept reminding himself that this wasn't the enemy. This was Draco now, and he wasn't anything like how Harry had thought he was.

"The books, they all mention how hidden messages are woven throughout what our minds are telling us. There's a possibility that she's saying something to help you. She might be trying to pass on the information that caused these nightmares. I know on the surface it looks like it's her death and you're witnessing it, but I don't know... I think there's something more there." Sighing, she shook her head, frowning. "I know this is hard for you, sharing it with people, but you have to let us in."

Draco had almost looked accepting, up until the point where she said, "us," and then his face fell completely. "No. You're staying out here," he told her, his voice commanding.

Hermione lifted her head a notch, stiffening her jaw. "I am _not_ staying out here," she denied, her eyes widening slightly with her resolve. "I know you're hesitant about--"

"Hesitant? No, I'm completely decided on this one. I don't want you anywhere near what's going on in there. D'you understand?" he asked her, his eyes staring into hers, hard but searching.

"Draco, you can't honestly think that I need to be protected from this when you're willing to allow Harry in," she said, sounding affronted.

"He's seen things you haven't seen," Draco reminded. Harry shifted, knowing it was true and hating it all the same. He felt rather proud of the fact that Draco was willing to share such a dark and threaded part of him, but he was a little scared to see what had such a strong person screaming in terror and being broken apart slowly. "I've told you things, I've explained parts. But what I've said, Hermione, that doesn't come close to describing what happens," he admitted, his voice telling as it shook slightly. He clenched his teeth for a moment before clearing his throat. "You can't go in there. It'll... It'll ruin that innocence you have."

"My innocence will be gone whether or not I go in there. My future involves war and death, Draco. Seeing something that is such a big part of you, seeing what you're seeing, if anything it'll just strengthen me," she told him, staring at him searchingly.

"It'll destroy you," he told her, his voice strong and steady.

Harry felt like he was imposing on a private moment between the two of them. How closely they sat, how easily they forgot about everyone in the room to focus on just each other. He was nearly jealous at the tight bond they had created. Their eyes were connected and she held onto his arm tightly, as if they needed one another for their own confidence. He glanced at Sirius to see his reaction to it all, finding his godfather staring at the couple curiously, his head cocked to one side and his brow furrowed as his eyes took them in. Perhaps it was the honesty that spilled from Draco in Hermione's presence that caused the surprise in the older man's eyes. Draco was known for being calculative or pointedly silent.

Hermione sighed, her mouth pinching up with her disagreement. She stared down at her hand against him, her eyes moving around as if to gather her thoughts. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. Her shoulders were slumping and Harry actually wondered if perhaps she was going to give in. Maybe she understood that were she to go in, it really could be damaging to her. Harry could admit to himself that he was scared, he was already worried about what his eyes would meet upon entering the tangled mind of his godbrother.

Draco reached out, tenderly lifting her chin so her eyes were connected with his. His thumb brushed gently over Hermione's cheek and Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach of dawning. The way Draco stared at her, how much Hermione needed to help him, how close they were, it was so very obvious to him. It wasn't friendship between them, whether they noticed it or not, something had grown and it was far more deep than a mutual consideration for each other.

"What did I tell you about whether this works and I'm gone? What did I tell you I wanted to you be free of?" he asked, his face falling just slightly even though he smiled at her reassuringly. She looked as though she didn't want to reply, as if it would be admitting defeat. "Doc," he pressed, affectionately.

She let out a shuddering breath, her eyes blinking quickly. "No regrets, no fears, and no darkness to recede into. I have to live in the light, where the birds chirp a lullaby and the heart beats a song. It's far too easy to live a life of mistakes and wrongdoings, but you'd rather I have one where I knew I did my best and had no reason to look back and feel sad," she told him, as if repeating his very words.

Draco nodded, a faint smile appearing on his face. "You go in my mind and you'll find yourself trapped by a lot of darkness. Those images will be forever burned in your head." His jaw flexed with his barely restrained emotion, "There are some things in this world, that nobody should be exposed to. I've been seeing these things since I was a little kid and if I could erase them from my mind I would. They've gotten worse and we both know they're tearing me apart. So imagine what it'll do to you," he said, lowly.

"But..." Hermione swallowed, biting her lip. Her hand lifted, wrapping around his wrist, her fingers brushing against his palm. "I don't mean to put down either Harry or Sirius, but your father will be distracted. Harry, he's seen so much already, yes, but he doesn't know what to expect like I do. And I know," she said, shaking her head, "I know I don't know every detail. But Draco," she sighed, the sound shaky and emotional, "we need to gather all the information we can. I think it's good that there's more than one person, and I trust them to listen carefully. But I think our best bet is to send me in with them. I won't... I will close my eyes when it gets bad. I-I—I will cover my ears and I will wait for it to end. I'll only watch the beginning, all right?" she said, staring at him with hope and sadness.

Draco licked his lips, his eyes turning off as he thought it over. Harry knew she was right; Sirius would be more of an extra, paying more attention to his wife being close enough for him to touch than what vital information she could be saying. And while Harry knew he had seen a lot of destruction in his life, had faced terrible things, he wasn't sure how he was going to do seeing what was coming. He had a feeling of foreboding wash over him and worried just how much blood there would be, how dark the dream would turn out, how her screams would affect him.

"I... I don't like this," Draco murmured quietly, his hand moving against her face. He tapped his free arm still wrapped around his front against his side. "You have to take every precaution. The second she touches me, you have to close your eyes as tight as you can and you have to cover your ears as much as possible. I mean it, Hermione," he told her loudly, his eyes wide and serious. "You can't... You can't see all this. In fact," he said, turning to glance at Harry and Sirius, "you should all do that the second things go wrong. D'you understand?" he asked forcefully, his eyes moving back and forth between the two men.

Harry stared at him, feeling as if he already wanted to do what Draco was asking him. He couldn't understand why the fear was so large, why seeing something that wasn't even real could be so terrifying for him. But he nodded, his eyes falling. He hoped he had the presence of mind to remember that while he was in the nightmare. If he could avoid seeing the blood, then he would. There were already so many deaths witnessed by him, he didn't want to see another. He glanced at Sirius, only to see his godfather nod at his son before turning around and staring out the window.

Draco returned his attention to Hermione, his expression stony and unsure. "When do we do this?" he asked softly.

Hermione pulled a bottle from her pocket, holding out the fuscia potion for him to see. "Anytime you're tired," she told him, nodding slowly.

He nodded, his hand falling from her chin and wrapping around hers to lay on the bed between them. "D'you have to take the potion when I fall asleep or does it matter?" he wondered, his fingers fiddling with hers.

Harry kept backing up near the wall, as if waiting for it to swallow him. He felt like he was hovering around them, watching their every move when they wanted time alone. Sirius seemed unwilling to leave and Harry wondered what Remus thought of it all. He had been a large part of the planning, spending a large part of the day before with Hermione and Draco in the study.

Sirius had been acting overly cheery, but now he was solemn. His act of being okay with everything had fallen apart when given the possibility of saving his son. Harry hadn't known what to say to him while he walked around with his pasted on smile and his forced cheer. He understood the reaction, but he wanted Sirius to fight what was happening, rather than accept it.

Later that afternoon, Harry and Ron had plans to fight it for him, for Draco, for everybody who was hurt by what was happening. He wasn't going to heed Draco's warning of not doing anything rash. Something had to be done, and while this plan of Hermione's might work, Harry still felt there was unfinished business with the Healer. He wanted answers and he was going to be sure to get them. Perhaps seeing what Draco was seeing would give him the last push he needed to go out and find the Healer at all costs.

"It's best to take it as close to when you fall asleep as possible," Hermione told him. "We can do it later if you want, if you'd like to prepare or something."

"I don't think it's possible to be prepared," he whispered, shaking his head. "I want it done now," he decided, nodding his head quickly. He turned to Harry, his face dark with resolve. "Shut the door, will you Potter?" he said, sounding rather worried.

"Yeah," Harry said, turning and closing the door tightly. His hand shook against the handle and he forced himself to get a grip on his fear.

"Everybody should take a seat somewhere comfortable. There's no telling whether we'll be thrashing around or anything either. Lay on the floor or maybe sit in a chair," Hermione told them, looking over at Sirius and then back at Harry. Her hand reached out for the potion on the end table that the Healer had left for him. "You should put this on, it could lessen the pain, or--"

Draco shook his head, ending her suggestion, "No, it could hinder something. I don't want to risk it." She nodded, though she frowned. Turning to his father, Draco sighed, "You're sure you want to do this? Because, she... It's going to hurt you in the long run," he warned, his voice barely hiding his concern.

Sirius turned to him, his decision stark on his face. He nodded, his mouth set in a grim frown. "I'm doing this. I want to be there and I want to see what you've seen. I need to," he told him, his voice quiet and steady.

Harry felt a shock of understanding. It wasn't only about seeing his wife, but understanding his son a little more. Sirius wanted to experience what Draco had, to see first hand what it was that Draco had been through. It was a bold move, one that could potentially wreck him. If it didn't work out, if Draco still died in the end, Sirius would forever know the kinds of things Draco had to go through during his short existence. And to see his beloved Elly die before his eyes in a way that boasted cruelty... Harry couldn't imagine how much it would hurt him. He wasn't only scared about how it would all affect him when it was over, but he worried about how Sirius and Hermione would do when it was over. They weren't completely innocent, Sirius more so than Hermione, but neither of them had seen what Draco had.

Harry wasn't sure anybody had ever seen what Draco had. Just the little bit he knew of the nightmares and the way it affected Draco, told Harry that what went on was far beyond seeing someone die away, their eyes void and their body basically unmarred aside from the way it was limp. _Avada Kedavra_, though a dark deadly curse, was very different from seeing someone die in a mangled, bloody, torn mess. It was more cruel, more dark, and far more lasting on the mind.

Draco accepted his answer, but stared at him with raw defeat. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Instead he moved so he was laying down and tugged Hermione down beside him. Harry sat down in a chair by the wall, his hands tightened around the arms of the seat, his knuckles going white from the pressure. He almost didn't want Draco to fall asleep, if only to put off seeing what was going to happen.

They sat there for a long while, everybody quiet and waiting for the inevitable. Hermione stroked Draco's hair and Harry was sure that were he to ask the purpose, she would write it off as a relaxing movement, rather than a tender intimacy she was sharing. Draco's eyes fluttered, almost as if he wanted to keep looking up at Hermione's face instead of falling asleep. But he finally drifted off and though Hermione waited for a moment, simply watching him, she was drinking the potion and passing it to the others, seconds before she was knocked out. She gave them a reassuring smile before she was pulled away.

Harry took the vile last, watching as Sirius slumped down against the side of the bed, his hand up and holding Draco's free one. Harry stared down at the vile before knocking it back, his eyes closed tightly in wait for what was to come. He took one last glance at the sleeping Draco, who was now tightening in response to his nightmare, his stomach lifting off the bed a bit as he strained through it. He was going to get through this and in the end, he would do all he could to save his godbrother. He wrote the feeling off as mutual human decency, even if perhaps a little part of him was worried about time limits and how death always creeps up at the worst moment, on those he always cared about.

_Harry found himself standing in a green expanse of jungle, where the scent of fresh dew and clean air intoxicated him. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, finding it free of pollution or any noise that didn't concern the animals hidden in the bushes and behind the mossy branches. Beside him stood Sirius and Hermione, both looking around with curiosity._

_In front of him was Draco, his eyes hardly taking in the area before his feet started moving. Nobody asked where they were going or where they were, nobody spoke at all. In fact, Harry got the feeling that not only did Draco not recognize their being there, but that they weren't able to alert him to their presence. Giving his theory a try, Harry tried to call out to his godbrother, finding no sound come out of his mouth. Shaking his head, he frowned but continued to follow Draco to wherever it was he was going._

_They walked through the dense jungle, passing overturned trees, hanging vines, and various blinking eyes, the creatures staying mostly in hiding. Draco never appeared to get lost, didn't stumble once, and walked as if he knew exactly where he was going. Harry wondered about it, but then decided whatever force was stopping the others from speaking or being recognized was also showing Draco where to go._

_They finally stopped in a small clearing, where a woman was crouched across from them, a tattered white dress wrapped around her. She rose slowly from the ground with the elegance of a Queen and the beauty of a Goddess. Harry felt the breath knock out of him and he was sure he was staring wide eyed and slack jawed at the woman before him. Her hair was the colour of honey and her eyes were a warm blue. Her lightly tanned shoulders peeked out from the white sundress that swept around her long, curvy body. He felt mesmerized and understood completely why Sirius had been so infatuated. He shook it off, turning to see what the others thought._

_Hermione was smiling softly, a sense of recognition in her eyes, as if she were seeing where Draco got a lot of his looks. Her eyes were littered with tears, but she looked rather happy. Sirius, on the other hand, had his palm pressed up against his mouth and his eyes were large and pained. Tears fell silently down his face, overlapping his hand to drop to the grassy ground. Had he been able to make sound, Harry was sure he'd be loudly sobbing in this moment._

_Sirius suddenly hurried forward, walking around Draco to stand beside Elly as she stared adoringly at her son. His hand rose, shaking in the air as it slowly made its way toward her. Harry wanted to tell him no, that he could be interrupting the nightmare and causing problems, but he didn't have the heart. It had been nearly all of Draco's life since Sirius had seen his beloved Elly, and this could very well be the very last time he could see her smile or laugh, breathe or move._

_Sirius' hand finally touched her shoulder, but Elly didn't appear to notice at all. He slid his palm up her neck, his chest heaving with shock and happiness. He ran his knuckles over her supple cheek, tears falling so quickly down his face, they appeared to be a waterfall. His fingers moved back, weaving through her hair and pressing it against his face. He inhaled deeply, pressing his face against her hair and sobbing._

_Harry felt his chest constrict and realized he was crying too. He was surprised at first about his emotional show, but seeing Sirius so desperately in love and falling apart was heartbreaking. Harry watched as Sirius' arms wrapped around his late wife, hugging her tightly against himself, taking in the feel of her skin and the soft scent of her._

_It wasn't until Draco began speaking that Sirius managed to pull himself together a bit. He didn't step away from his wife though, instead wrapping his hand around her side and standing behind her, making him look as if he and Elly were both listening to something Draco had to say. Harry thought they looked like a real family for a moment and he couldn't help but think that when Sirius had to go, or the end came, which never sounded good, it would be terrible for his godfather._

_Draco looked hurt, but all the same determined. "Tell me how to stop this," he said, his voice shaky but serious._

_Elly stared at him, her mouth lifting in a sad frown. She shook her head slowly, eyes falling to stare morosely at the ground. "You know I can't tell you outright, Draco darling," she told him, her voice like hot chocolate on a winter day; warm and comforting._

"_I can't do this any more," Draco told her, shaking his head as tears began to fill his eyes. "Whatever this is, whatever happened to make this happen, it's not like how it was. It was fine when I was a little boy, mum, when you'd just sing and be there. But this is different!" His voice was strangled and his breathing had picked up. "This is terrifying and heart wrenching, and by Merlin, it's killing me," he shouted, lifting his hands to press into his face, trying to calm down._

_Sirius lost that childlike excitement that had been on his face at being so close to his wife again. He stared at Draco with a hardened and coldly morose expression on his face. Hearing the desperation in Draco's honest words, in his plea to be released from his nightmares was like a vice on his entire body. His gaze was centered on Draco, so upset and defeated. It was as if all the emotion he hid behind his fake smiles was finally coming out. His shell had broken down to show a father who was losing his son. He was broken, his body slumped and his face aging to look weathered and beaten. He looked back to his wife, in hopes that she would have a clear answer to save their son._

"_My sweet boy," she whispered, stepping forward slowly. "I've been trying to tell you, little dragon. He won't let me say it, but you have to pay close attention to my words," she told him, staring up into his covered face with morose desperation. "Nothing is as it seems, my soldier. There are those you've trusted and they don't deserve it. She's not trustworthy, she never was. Tears and a show of compassion can be faked, darling. Many things can be faked," she stressed, her eyes staring into his searchingly._

_Harry frowned, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out who she was talking about. He looked to Hermione in hopes that perhaps she had an idea. She was tapping her chin with her eyes thinned in thought. A female, one who had feigned compassion with Draco. But who?_

"_Who? Who are you talking about?" Draco asked frustrated, letting his arms fall. "You always talk in circles, never stating what needs to be said," he told her, sounding angry and upset._

"_I have to," she told him, sighing. "Do you trust me, Draco?" she queried, softly._

_Harry moved to the side so he could better watch their interaction, though he felt like he was watching a movie play out. He was trying to absorb what Elly was saying and turn it into sense, but it was riddled with confusion. His eyes settled in on Draco, wondering what his reply would be to the question. Essentially, it was because of her death that he was dying and going through so much pain._

_Lifting his gaze to hers, he nodded, his jaw clenched. "Of course I do." Draco's hand reached out but he pulled it away before it could touch her, almost looking as if her skin would burn him._

_Elly stared at his hand for a long moment, looking sad and tired. "Then open your mind, sweetheart. Think, remember, speak," she told him, a small smile lighting up her face. "You have your father's cunning, darling, and though he used it for mischief," she said, fondly, "you'll have to use it for destroying a deception."_

"_What deception?" he asked, his voice raising with annoyance. "Gods, there are so many going on." He crossed his arms, turning his eyes away._

"_An old deception, one that has shaped your life," she told him, her voice becoming low and angry. "One that ruined you Draco. Ruined a whole family." _

_Harry thought she might mean the one involving Sirius and Wormtail, but he wasn't sure. He then wondered if maybe she was referencing Lucius and perhaps how he had offered up Draco to Walburga Black, thinking to get rid of Draco instead of raising him as his own. That brought up questions though, because Draco likely didn't know anything about how Lucius had written Sirius' mother, talking about how easily he could get rid of Draco, if she so wanted. Or maybe they meant on the whole, and how Draco wasn't given to Remus, his godfather, but instead left to stay with a family who would never truly care for him. There were so many possibilities._

_Her tone suddenly softened and she shook with her previous anger. "You have so much rage in you, baby boy," she told him, staring up into his eyes with concern. "She's helping you with that though, isn't she? She's a smart witch, one who hurts for you, who works to save you," she said, moving around him slowly and stopping in front of Hermione._

_Harry was shocked to see Elly stare directly into Hermione's eyes, a small smile on her lips. Hermione, too, looked surprised, but she didn't move, instead staring right back. "She's getting close to the truth. She'll help you with it, Draco. I can already tell you trust her. She's worthy of it. So many aren't. But right now," she told him, turning to Harry, "you are surrounded by people who care, who are looking out for you, and who truly want to help you."_

_Draco didn't turn around, instead staring at the floor, inhaling slowly. "I know that," he whispered, shaking his head._

"_Do you?" Elly wondered, turning to walk back to him, lifting her hand to cradle his face a breath away from his skin. It was almost as if she were touching him, for his face raised with her hand. But she was careful not to press her palm against him, and Harry knew that with her touch would come the dark end. "Tell me, Draco, d'you trust your godbrother?" she queried._

_Draco stared at her, his jaw twitching. "What does Harry have to do with this?" he wondered, his back tensing._

_Elly stared past Draco's shoulders, her eyes settled on Harry's emerald gaze. He wanted to question her actions and rather felt like they were deceiving Draco by asking him such questions in the presence of someone he didn't know was there. He shook his head at her, frowning even though he wanted to know the answer. He sort of expected Draco to deny any connection at all with him, even though they had been making way with a sense of acceptance for one another._

"_It's all right, I already know the answer to my question," she replied, nodding. "This journey, my little boy, it's hurt you, I know," she told him, her voice shaky with tears. "I've hurt you," she admitted, blinking furiously._

"_It wasn't your fault," Draco replied quickly, his hands coming up as if to hug her but stopping just short of her sides. "It's theirs."_

_Harry had to admit, Draco had loyalty in him that ran far beyond that of most. He looked to stop Elly from feeling any guilt, not allowing her to doubt for one second that he fully accepted that what she was doing was for a greater good. Harry wasn't sure if it was, after all it was causing the end of Draco with its endless need for him to suffer. But he wouldn't tell Draco that, if only to save the impending fight. Elly had been right when she said he had rage in him, he was fool of hate and vengeance, mostly for her._

"_Remember that," she told him, sounding desperate._

"_I always have," he responded, grimacing._

"_Yes, I know you have, that's where all this darkness comes from," she said, quietly. "It's not only your burden, darling. I know it feels that way, and that's my fault, partly."_

_Harry snorted, though the sound didn't come out. Draco couldn't forget his vendetta and it wasn't as if Elly really wanted him to. That bothered him, he believed Draco's mother should want him to lead a peaceful existence rather than living to avenge her and Sirius' incarceration. It was unhealthy and perhaps if he hadn't grown up thinking he had to do something to make up for her death, then Draco would've had an easier life. He certainly wouldn't be in the position he was in now. But would he then have grown up to be the type of person Lucius had wanted him to be? Harry stepped forward to better hear Elly, who seemed to be getting choked up._

_Shaking her head, Elly reached out, pressing her palms against Draco's face and holding him close to her. His hands came up, wrapping around her wrists and holding her in a scared, worried fashion. "Share the burden, sweet dragon. Share the past, the hurt, the memories. Look harder, think more in depth. It's there, in the back of your mind. You were just a baby, but I know you know. I can see it in there, just waiting to get out." Her eyes stared searchingly into his, as she nodded shortly and made a strangled noise from the back of her throat._

_Harry tried to make sense of her words. So what happened had occurred while Draco was young, that much was obvious. It was something he had suppressed in his mind... Or perhaps something that had been suppressed for him? Harry didn't have much time to think on it as Elly drew him back in._

_She shook her head, her breathing picking up. "It's going to hurt you, and you might think it brings death, but if you wait much longer, you'll die before you know. And... And you won't be where I am, darling. You'll be in a beautiful world, but you won't have all that you love." _

_Harry's eyes thinned, questioning the meaning behind her words. Where was she, if not where Draco would go when he died?_

_She stared at him desperately, her eyes streaming tears and her mouth quivering. "You have to live," she told him, strongly. "You have to live for me. For your father. For her, Draco. They need you and as much as I want you with me, I can't have you. But you know, my sweet boy, you know I love you. That I'll always love you. You're my everything," she told him, her head turning quickly when a sharp sound crackled through the air. _

_She turned back to him, her expression frantic. "When I'm finally gone, you remember these words. Now close your eyes Draco, you've had enough pain to last a lifetime," she said, leaning up to kiss his forehead before she stepped back swiftly._

_Harry watched as Sirius came around to stand beside Draco, staring at Elly with sad eyes, shaking his head morosely. Elly stared at him, a small smile on her lips as she inhaled thickly, tears marring her soft face. "You tell your father, Draco, you tell him that his Elly loved him. That she loved her Padfoot every single day and that she never doubted him for one second," she told him, staring only at her husband with a look of understanding._

_Vines flew down, wrapping around her wrists and ripping her from the ground to hold her halfway up in the air. They tightened to hold her arms out in a straining manner, another coming down to wrap around her throat, holding her head up. She stared down at him, defeat marring her features. "Redemption is coming and you will bring it, my son," she announced fiercely._

_Harry was so shocked by the sudden act, he didn't know what to do. He stood on Draco's other side, his eyes staring wide eyed up at the woman hovering in the air, looking sad but strong. Pride and courage radiated from her form and Harry feared that she felt her death every time Draco dreamt it. He swallowed painfully, knowing that what would come next could only get worse._

_Draco stared up at her, his breathing picking up until he was practically hyperventilating. Sweat poured down his skin and he clenched his jaw tight to keep from screaming. Harry watched in horrified fascination, his gaze moving from Draco to his mother. Her flesh was already marred in various places with small cuts, blood seeping from them. The thorned vines tightened, piercing her skin deeper and dripping the dark red liquid of life to the grass below._

_Various vines wrapped around her ankles, her knees, her waist and her shoulders. One moved around her head, the pointed end brushing against her cheek in a mock-affectionate manner. "Close your eyes," she shouted, shaking her head as much as she could. _

_Harry got the feeling that she was talking to all of them, not only her son. He remembered how vehemently Draco had told them all to do the same back when he was agreeing to them coming in with them. They had all said they would, but nobody moved to hide or cower. Even Hermione's hands hung limply by her sides. Harry watched as Draco shook his head, trying to walk forward but finding himself stopped. Suddenly, without any warning, Draco was forced to his knees, with his head pulled back so he had to watch it all play out. Harry was sure he would have anyway, needing to see her until she was completely gone, in hopes that somehow she'd be saved. But the pressure against him, stopping him from saving her, looked painful._

_The vines tightened until they were pulling on her so much that she was screaming. Draco's voice joined hers, calling out her name, admitting that he couldn't save her, that he was sorry. He sobbed with the pain of watching her, his hands pressed against his temple as Harry was sure a throbbing headache had consumed him. Draco's neck tightened, while his body fought to get up, to get to her. Harry couldn't move, simply watching with wide, teary eyes as Elly was torn and yanked._

_The vines suddenly lurched to the side, ripping her hands from their sockets and dropping them to the ground. Blood spurted out of the end of her arms, gushing to the grass beneath her. Next were her ankles, the sound of bone detaching and muscles ripping was enough to make Harry lightheaded and queasy. She was torn away, piece by piece, the horrendous sounds of screams echoing through the woods._

_Harry fell to the grass, his eyes taking in everything and his mind whirring with denial. Hermione had crawled over to Draco, her hands reaching out, trying to hold him, but an invisible force kept her away. She was silently crying, her eyes hardly able to look up at the massacre above. Sirius was reaching out, screaming with no noise exiting his throat. His skin was pale and his stance was distraught and terrified. His feet dug into the ground, pushing up dirt and grass as he tried to get to her but couldn't._

_The vine around Elly's face suddenly wrapped around her hanging, screaming jaw, tightened and then ripped it from her head. An agonized scream tore from her throat, piercing the souls of the people below, pained and scared. Her blood poured down her throat, marring her white dress and gurgling out of her. Elly's eyes closed and she let out a strangled cry that sounded much like, "Draco," before the vines ripped her in half and tore her head from her shoulders. Her various body parts hung from the vines or fell to the floor, before they suddenly turned black and withered away to dust. A gust of wind blew the remains away, taking her far from where the terror had happened._

_The jungle was quiet and empty feeling, before the force holding Draco let go. He fell forward, his arms coming out to shakily brace him. His fingers dug into the dirt while his chest heaved and finally he whimpered, "Mum," before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped to the ground._

_Harry, Hermione, and Sirius reached out to him, but the world they were in faded away before they could reach him. Darkness smothered them and they felt their chests constrict for a moment before suddenly they were gasping._

Harry found himself back in Draco's bedroom, his eyes were heavy and he felt a yawn in the back of his throat. He looked around as Hermione and Sirius suddenly woke up. It only took a brief moment before Sirius had his hand over his mouth, stopping the vomit from forcing its way out, and ran from the room. His own stomach turned as visions of blood and terrorized screams flew across his mind. The gore, the pain, the undeniable horror played out in his mind like a sped up movie, forcing him to relive it all. He slipped out of the chair, falling to his knees and gasping for air.

He could hear Hermione sobbing against Draco who was only half awake and murmuring her name in a manner that suggested he was still suffering through the aftereffects of having just woken from terror. Harry sat up partly, leaning back against the seat of the chair, his chest thrumming a painful beat. He could see Hermione, half on top of Draco, her hands clutching at him, her back shaking.

Draco, though for his part looked like he could barely speak, wrapped his weak arms around her waist, his hand stroking her back to soothe her. "Told you... close your eyes... Why... Why didn't you...," he slurred, his hand clenching up her shirt in his fist as tears leaked down his face. "It'll be okay... You'll be okay now... I got you... shh...," he drawled, one of his hands lifting to thread in her hair. His mouth fell open as he made a suffering sigh, his eyes lazily trying to open. His body twitched against hers, his hands flexing and then relaxing against her shirt.

Harry watched sadly, shaking his head as felt his stomach roll against him once more. The door was left wide open and he could hear Sirius' retching down the hall. Faintly, footsteps could be heard before Remus entered the room, looking around worriedly. He knelt in front of Harry, his hand reaching out and taking his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Are you okay, Harry?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

Harry's head rolled back and he stared at Remus, seeing himself in the man's eyes. It was then he realized tears were pouring down his face; his hand lifted shakily, before touching the salty remnants of his fear and horror. "It was... It was so..." He shook his head, letting out a heaving sigh that bordered on a sob. "Oh Merlin, Remus," he whispered, inhaling thickly.

Lupin asked him various questions, but his voice seemed to drown out in Harry's ears, replaced instead by his fear and the playing out of the images over and over. His heart felt as if it were beating out of his chest and his eyes wouldn't close. They were beginning to burn, but he was afraid if he closed them, he'd see her again. She had been so beautiful, before she was reduced to limbs and turned to ash. He shook his head, forcing down the bile in his throat.

When the horror slipped away it was replaced by anger, a deep, raw rage for the boy who had to see such terrorizing things. It dug into him like claws, yanking at him to do something. He nearly jumped from the floor, his legs wobbly and unstable at first. But he ignored that and made his way out of the room. He shouted Ron's name, hoarse and ragged. His best mate showed up seconds later, looked worried and ready to fight, with his wand out and his eyes looking around frantically.

"Get the potion, we go now," Harry told him, darkly.

Ron nodded, not questioning it at all. He hurried down the hallway, disappearing into his bedroom and seconds later he was standing beside Harry, ready to go. Harry used the banister to get downstairs, still feeling groggy and nearly limp with the aftereffects of the potion and what he had seen. They made it to the fireplace and, ignoring Remus' questions, they flooed away. It was time to pay a visit to a certain Healer, Harry had a lot of damning questions.

* * *

**A/N** _Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. For the next one, you get to make a choice about who is written! Since I don't like repeating POV's though, you won't be able to read, just yet, about Ron and Harry's adventure with the Healer. So, instead you get to pick from the following list of people:_

_**Draco  
Hermione  
Remus  
Sirius  
Lucius**_

_Okay, so I hope that this chapter was up to par, and that you've broken a little more of the mystery! There were lots of hints, and many of you reviewers have already made headway! Don't worry, soon it'll all make sense! Thanks for reading, please review!_

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	17. 17

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_This might really sound cliche but "Oh merlin that was the most beautiful thing I've ever read!" and I've just remembered this quote "The very essence of literature is the war between emotion and intellect" (Isaac Bashevis Singer). It seems as if your proving this point exceedingly well. I actually cried honest all of those emotions were beyond extremely well described. I think your writing is a blessing from God because I've never seen someone open up that well. All those feelings you get, you are being forced to write them down on paper using the boring and cliched words from the english language but you took these boring and cliched words and turned them into something so wonderful that I can't really describe. Am I making sense to you? Because I really feel that this is so confused I've even confused myself with my choice of words. Weird huh? Okay as for picking one of the perspectives for the the next chapter I really think it should be either Hermione or Sirius because they have experianced the dream and were just filled with emotions bursting and calling out to be written on paper or in your case microsoft word document :D Oh and Merry Christmas_!" - **_Hater-of-heartless-critics_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter sixteen**: _Andromina, Jester08, charmedsisters, Maybaby525, untitled, aperfectattitude, hanna, babygirl36554, Carla Coleman, Sasmith, emptyli'lfirefly, Lily Hermione Potter, Kourui, spacesareoverrated, maerose899, grace, angelride93, Laendra, untamedspiral, mumbulus-mimbletonia, Airlady, devotedHPfan, Pam Briggs, **sugar bumps, Caligirl-HPLVR, niic smiles, Shaggy37, mskiti, starzstruck-1, Sam's Firefly **_and _especially** annieca (Ann), Hater-of-heartless-critics (Zoey), Lovelylady90, Zarroc **_and_** galloping-goose.**_

__

_**A Family Affair**_

-**17**-

It was horrifying. The images he had to see, those which Hermione had witnessed with her own two burning eyes. The blood, the carnage, that lack of pity shown on Elly. She was so beautiful, so adoring to Draco, which made her malicious mangling even more wrong. She could still see Draco's face, the way he simply broke. It was so rare, so unbelievable that she almost told herself she was seeing things. But there he was, the wrecked and ruined soul she knew he encompassed. She wanted so badly to reach out and tear him from his desperate perch, but her body wouldn't move close enough. She reached, she struggled, and still she wasn't allowed close enough to comfort him, to shield him.

Her analytical mind told her she needed to focus on Elly's words. She had to decipher the meaning and get down to the true reason behind Draco's nightmares, but she was so rattled she could barely think. She was fairly sure she'd be losing her mind with the images that played behind her eyes, but Draco's arms anchored her to reality. She could feel him spasming against her, fighting off the affects of his nightmare, and his whispered words in her hair gave her that small burst of hope that perhaps she'd calm down in due time.

She clutched at him, doing all that she could to get closer, to hold him tighter, to melt into him. His arms, though tight and twitching, held on to her as though worried she too would be ripped from him. That if he didn't keep her close to him, he'd have to see her own damning death, hear her blood curdling cries, feel her trembling terror. She could feel the sweat over his skin, hear the croaky growl of his raw voice, and feel the beat of his heart beneath her head.

Somewhere, in the back of her head, she was sure she heard Remus questioning Harry on what had happened. Her best friend had no real reply and she heard him shouting for Ron a moment later; for what, she didn't know. A small part of her was worried about Sirius, about how he was coping. But her own fear was overriding that, and she felt selfish for a moment, thinking she was more important. Perhaps Draco and Sirius deserved time alone, needing to talk about Elly and what had happened. She told herself to disentangle herself from him, but not one part of her made the move to leave.

The door closed soon after and she felt reassured that Remus would take care of Sirius. Her body relaxed some. Perhaps because she knew she was allowed to have this moment, or maybe because she was coming down from the emotion and scare she had experienced. All she knew was that Draco was slowly winding down from his tremors and she wasn't as stiff as she had been. She was limp now though, tired and empty of any fire or anger or worry. She was just an empty shell, one now feeling a cool breeze against her own damp skin, causing a chill that made her shiver. She felt a blanket placed around her shoulders and knew that Draco had covered her.

Her hazy mind wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask if he was okay, but her mouth wouldn't work and her eyes were drooping. Tears still poured down them, marring her skin and telling of the fear that lived deep inside her now. Maybe he was right, maybe she was damaged now. Would he be able to look at her the same after this? Would she always see the same Draco when she looked at him? Or would she forever remember the screaming, struggling, scared Draco that he was in his nightmares. The one she couldn't reach, the one she had witnessed go through the most terrifying of events. Was this pity she felt now, or understanding?

She was so tired and yet scared to close her eyes fully. What if she dreamt of Elly? What if she relived it all in her mind? Was this what he went through every night before he fell asleep? The fear, the indecision, the need to stay awake as long as possible? She could hear a ringing in her ears and her jaw clenched when she thought it could be Elly's screams. Maybe thinking about it was making her panic over nothing. She could feel the thumping of her heart slow to a normal pace, which both comforted her and worried her. She didn't want to sleep, didn't want to consider what might happen if she let herself relax too much.

Her mind shouted for her to fight it but her body just slumped in closer to Draco, using his body heat to lull her into comfort. His hand was stroking her back, fingers dancing circles over her shirt. Her hand lay limply on the far side of his chest, fingers previously furled up in his shirt. His free hand came up to wrap around it, his thumb pressing into her palm lightly, as if reassuring her that he was right there, and he wasn't letting go.

"I don't..." she mumbled, her eyes fluttering and her voice raspy from her crying. "I don't want to sleep," she whispered, trying to look up at him.

"You need to," he replied quietly, his hand rubbing her side now, so perfectly she nearly sighed against him. Instead she settled for moving a little closer. His fingers tangled with hers against his chest and she felt a short smile tug at her lips. "Close your eyes, Hermione," he breathed against her hair.

She sighed in response, a soft, sweet exhalation that sounded as if she were thanking him. A fear clutched at her however; if he stayed, he too might fall asleep and the thought of him going back into that terror scared her beyond her own terror. Or what if he left her while she was sleeping, she wasn't sure she could let him go just yet. There was something selfish in that, but she just couldn't stomach the idea of waking up and not having him in her arms. Perhaps it was because of what she'd seen him going through, or more likely it was because she was so far beyond just loving him, that she wasn't even sure there was a way to describe how she felt.

"Don't leave me," she murmured, hoping it sounded as an order, rather than the pitiful plea of a scared little girl.

"I'll never leave you," he whispered, and it was all it took before she slipped away into unconsciousness.

Her dreams weren't that of blood or gore, they weren't filled with agonized screams of boys losing their mothers to death and horror. She found herself in a blissful nothingness, where all she felt was warmth and comfort. She thought it might be because she was outwardly being held by Draco, but she couldn't be certain. All she knew was that it was a peaceful slumber, one where she relaxed so much that she wasn't sure she wanted to go back to the world where war, hate, and pain ran a long, suffering course. However, her body had mended itself against the exhaustion she felt after being in his nightmare and she woke up a few hours later, still curled against Draco's warm body.

He was staring near the window, his arm wrapped around her body while his hand ran a short, soft path up and down her side. Now she knew what the light tickling feeling was that she had been thinking over in her sleep. He seemed to be deep in thought, and she wondered if she should even bother him. He didn't appear to have taken his potion yet and the affects of his nightmare, along with previous ones, were showing more in his face again. Beneath his eyes, the skin was grey and sallow, while the rest of his face had paled greatly.

His hand was still tangled with hers on his chest and she wondered if he had been uncomfortable all this time. She took his lack of attention on her to study him. He truly was a handsome man, with his golden blonde hair, which she now knew came from his mother. His eyes were her favorite feature though, such a brilliant silver they looked impossibly magical. Like two orbs of mercury, swirling and churning in a heavenly manner. His body had changed since his days at Hogwarts and she wondered if it was because of the glamour charms placed on him, likely by Lucius so he would appear the average Malfoy. He was fuller now, more in the shoulders than anything. The muscle definition of working hard in Quidditch was now more notable and she could feel it firm against her body as she lay tight against him.

If she were not to focus on his looks at all, then she'd certainly be drawn in by his real personality. While he was still sarcastic and had a sense of humor only some would understand, she enjoyed his witty replies to most things and the way he could turn any conversation over on someone. He was obviously smart and incredibly warm when he wanted to be. In those rare moments where he let his true feelings seep through she saw someone she could truly care for. One that needed caring for. He let it out with her, she found. More so than most, though she didn't question it. There was a possibility that others had seen this Draco, she didn't ask.

Part of her wanted to keep him all to herself and another part wanted to share him with everyone, to prove that he wasn't the cruel things they thought he was. But then she knew that he didn't care what most people thought. He had done it to himself and he had kept it going as long as he could. The only people he seemed to care about now were his family, and maybe on rare occasions Harry. She had to wonder why it was that Draco wanted him, of everyone in the house, to go with him in his nightmare. And then she found that they weren't throwing biting remarks at each other like they used to. She decided then that they had either agreed to be civil or they found a common ground and a small understanding of each other's position in life had been formed.

The window he was looking near was left open and a warm afternoon breeze danced over her arm as she felt Draco play with her fingers absently. It was rather sweet really, how he stayed with her the entire time, letting her wrap herself around him so intimately. He had to be feeling uncomfortable after what he saw and now knew they had seen. Was it always that bad? she wondered. Was he thinking about it now? His face seemed peaceful, save for the small crease between his brows as he thought. She felt the urge to reach up and smooth it out but smothered that idea as she was too comfortable and enjoyed watching him more than she should.

"Were you just going to watch me all morning, or had you planned on telling me you were awake at some point?" he queried, his voice quiet and amused.

She felt a blush cover her cheeks at being caught, but answered in a dignified voice, "I thought I'd leave you to your thoughts, besides I was just barely awake. How long has it been, anyway?"

"A few hours or so," he replied, still staring at the window but shrugging slightly. She wondered if she should move back from him but he didn't seem to be letting go so she didn't make him. It wasn't as if she wanted to go, she was just making sure he was okay with things. Therefore, she wasn't forcing herself on him. "My dad has been in his room all morning. He won't let anybody in. Remus has been trying, but he's not getting through," he told her, quiet and sullen. "Harry and Ron aren't around either. They left shortly after... and haven't been back. Remus doesn't know where they've gone, but he said he's sure they're fine. I think he's more worried about Sirius than anything." He sighed, shaking his head lightly. "He wanted to talk but I told him we'd all discuss it later. I don't... I don't feel like sharing it all again," he breathed, sounding pained and exhausted.

He refused to look at her and she gathered that he was embarrassed about being seen in such a raw manner. He was stripped of his shield in those moments, left bare and free to all his emotions and fears. Instinct wanted to hold him, cradle him through it all. She wanted to stroke his hair and kiss away that crease between his brows. To hold him until he let it all out, expressed every single thing he had to. But she was well aware of how he would react to that, and he hated being seen as weak or pitiful. So instead she squeezed him, moving closer and burrowing her face against his chest.

He held her tighter, his hand moving to cradle her ribs, pressing her closer to him. The hand wrapped around hers squeezed, palm against palm, fingers clutching one another. And still he kept his eyes turned away, those mercurial depths staying far from her chocolate brown gaze, though she so desperately wanted to see what the swirling eyes held behind them. Like a window to his every thought, she was sure she could see what was going on his mind right then.

"You didn't close your eyes," he breathed and there was a burst of anger behind those words. She wondered if it was towards her or his nightmares.

"I tried to," she replied, quietly. "I kept... I kept telling myself to cover my ears and close my eyes. But my hands wouldn't move and my eyes wouldn't close. I just... It was like I had to watch, had to hear it all, and I..." Her throat burned with emotion and her eyes swam in tears. She had hoped the visions she had been seeing, the thoughts and horror that had been raging through her mind before she slept would melt away enough for her to speak comfortably. While it was a little less terrifying, it was still so fresh and raw that she felt herself tense and shake against him.

She didn't want to say too much about it, didn't want to tell him just how horrified she was, in case he started to regret his decision to take her in. She didn't want him to blame himself for what happened, she should have been able to control herself. She had promised him she'd do something and when it came time for her vow to be filled, she hadn't. It was her fault, not his. "I'm sorry, I should have--"

"You're sorry," he whispered, his voice choked and strangled.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowing. What else could she say? She didn't mean to break her promise? She had explained what happened and she really was sorry. "I-- Well I should have done what I told you I would, but it was... I don't know if I was just too caught up or what, but I tried. I..." She trailed off, at a loss for how to apologize for not doing as she had said she would.

He turned to her, his eyes dark and damp; they looked more charcoal than silver now. "I didn't... I didn't want you to see that. I... Why'd you have to go in there?" he asked her, his eyes searching hers. "You shouldn't..." He sighed, a hiccup interrupting the exhalation. "You shouldn't have to see things like that. _Feel_ that desperate fear and bone shaking terror," he told her, shaking his head as his face curled in anger and his eyes shut tightly.

"Draco," she whispered, moving up closer, but he kept her still holding onto her.

He swallowed, the gesture loud and pained sounding. As if he was pushing down all the emotion that had been building up, trying to reign it in before it burst out of him. She moved her arm out from beneath the pillow they shared, arching it over his head until her fingers were brushing strands of his hair off his face and stroking his cheek.

He let out a soft, shaking sigh, before letting his eyes open, turning down to look at her. "There are parts of me, things I've done and seen, that I don't ever want you to witness," he told her, his teeth clenched, she figured more out of his strained emotion rather than anger.

Hermione nodded, her finger moving out to brush away a tear that slipped down his face. "But you can't shield me from everything, Draco," she told him, her voice soft. "And I was the one who convinced you to let me go. Maybe it was really for the best, right? I mean, you said it yourself, Harry ran off with Ron somewhere, and Sirius has locked himself away. I... I'm the only one besides you who is right here and able to talk about it," she told him, her eyes hopeful that he'd understand and accept everything as is.

"It's not as if you weren't affected," he reminded, his eyes burning into hers with their intensity. "You were so rattled you were shaking and sobbing. You were also muttering under your breath, things about blood and screaming," he told her, and she couldn't help the shocked expression that covered her face then. He stared at her, his hand against her ribs moving down slightly, a warm smoothing of his palm against her that made her relax some. "I shouldn't have let you go. I shouldn't have let _anybody_ go. Even Potter is shook up. This is... This isn't right and..." His nose flared as he turned his eyes down and inhaled shakily, "The nightmare... It was..." He shook his head, his eyes falling closed tightly.

She felt him tremble against her and this time was able to move without him clamping down on her body. She moved her hand from his against his chest to press against his neck as she covered half of his body with her own, burying her face against his neck. "I know," she whispered, her fingers stroking delicately at his skin. His arms wrapped around her, and she ended up moving over more until she was sprawled across him, her every curve pressed against him. He moved his face down to lay against her shoulder, his hands holding tightly to her shirt while their legs tangled against the bed.

He mumbled things against her, about how sorry he was that she had seen what she had, about how his mother needed him and he failed, and how Sirius was broken because of him. He spoke rapidly and she was fairly sure her whispered reassurances weren't even being heard. But he held onto her for all he was worth, keeping her close and tight against him. She could feel his heart against her chest, his stomach pressed into hers every time he breathed, and his fingers were kneading at her back, a lulling sensation that left her nearly whimpering with its intimacy. At some point, her fingers had threaded in his hair and were running a calming path up and down his neck.

She didn't stop to think how people might react if they came in, instead forcing herself not to fall into his mesmerizing hands and instead focus on healing him. She continued to whisper to him, even if he wasn't listening to her. Telling him of how it wasn't his fault, that he did nothing wrong. She reminded him that he couldn't move to get to his mother, so there was really nothing he could do to get her down. But that he was still trying to save her really, by allowing people to come in to decipher the happenings of his nightmare. She reminded him that Sirius couldn't be stopped from going into his nightmare and that he likely would have drunk the potion the moment everyone else had, just because he _needed_ to go in with them. And she promised him, time after time, after hearing his fear of her being disturbed or terrified of him, that she wasn't. That while she was still reeling from it all, it did nothing to change her opinion of him. If anything, only heightened her pride in his courage and made her better understand him.

She didn't know how long it was, she didn't know when they stopped talking and simply held each other, but they were left in a warm embrace in the end. He was still stroking her back and she was still running her fingers up and down his neck in a calming fashion. Her body was still pressed tight upon his, while her head was on his shoulder, her face pressed near his neck. She noticed he smelled like soap and fresh air. She attributed the latter to his love of flying and Quidditch, and found the smell oddly enticing.

She wondered if he thought it odd how they were laying, how intimately they were embracing one another. She certainly never did this with any of her other friends. It was too close, there would be an awkwardness with Ron or Harry. But laying there, on top of him, with his arms around her as if it were the most natural thing, was warm and perfect. There was no questioning when the right time would be to let go, she knew it would just happen. She did wonder if he knew how deep her feelings for him ran though. Was it showing? Had she accidentally let it slip at some point?

"Some of The Order are coming by tonight," he told her, his voice quiet and reserved.

"Oh?" she replied, her eyes looking up even though she couldn't see his face.

"We're going to start plans on finding the Horcruxes. The sooner we get rid of them, the sooner..." he let it trail off, the meaning obvious. War was coming and he desired it as quick as possible.

"How long, do you think?" she wondered, feeling a tight worry settle in her stomach. Death Eaters, War, Voldemort, and Lucius Malfoy, it was all happening so quickly. She still had to deal with Draco's nightmares. But he wasn't paying attention to that, he was focusing on his goal still. He didn't want to put too much stock in her miracle, and she could understand why.

There was a part of her that wanted to shake him, that wanted to tell him to forget about vengeance and Voldemort. To focus on himself, on healing and being alive for as long as possible. But she knew what it all meant to him, and if his nightmare told her anything, it was that he had been waiting for this day for nearly all his life. Elly wanted it, he wanted it, and deep down she wanted it for them. Vengeance and the downfall of Voldemort, it was needed. She just wished he wasn't the one doing it.

"Hopefully before school starts, but it might run into the first month or so of seventh year," he told her, shrugging lightly. "It'll take time to find the Horcruxes and when Voldemort realizes it's happening he'll run interference. When we get rid of them all, he might not want to fight us right away. But... he's not going to have a choice in the matter. If it takes us finding his hide out and forcing war, we'll do it," he told her firmly, a strength in his words that almost made her cheer as if he had already won.

She nodded, unable to really say anything. Should she tell him she was proud of him? That she was sure he'd win? Or that she wanted him to forget all about it? Perhaps she shouldn't say anything, just in case she said something she'd regret. She didn't like War, didn't relish in the idea of killing someone. And while she knew Voldemort had to die, part of her hated that Draco had to do the killing. Even though it was likely that Harry would be the one to finally finish him off, Draco would have a hand in all of it. He had already been through so much, had already experienced so much death, why go looking for more? She didn't want to get into logistics or question his beliefs, it would be taxing and nobody would win in the end. He was who he was and he'd do what he'd do. That was just how it would end, and she had to accept that. Even if she didn't like it.

"Have you ever... That is... Have you ever thought about a real future? One that comes after Voldemort's death and you've filled this _vendetta_ you have?" she asked, curiously, one of her hands falling to fiddle with the top of his shirt.

He sighed, whether it was resigned or hopeful, she wasn't sure. "Sometimes," he replied, nodding. "Not often though. It's always been sort of a given that I likely wouldn't make it through. I think a lot of us walking into this war have resigned themselves to that. It's needed. If we go in with too much hope or a bundle of dreams, then we don't just die, but we die with regrets. I don't want to go thinking about what I could've had if I'd done something different. I want to die knowing that I did all I could, I said all that needed to be said, and I finished what I started," he told her, a simpleness to his words that made such sense.

"Hmm," she said, wanting to say that his logic was wrong, but knowing it was right. If she told him not to fight, she'd be hypocritical. Everybody expected Harry to fight, and she knew she would fight too, no matter what anybody said. So to tell him he couldn't, because he had a time limit on his life, just seemed ridiculous. If anything, it made sense for him to fight. He had nothing to lose. That thought jarred her and she wished she could take it back entirely. He had a lot to lose still, because she wasn't going to let him die so easily. She was going to figure out his nightmare and then she'd use it to their advantage. She nodded to herself, content with the fact that she hadn't given up on him. "I should write down everything I saw and heard," she told him, knowing she should get started as soon as possible, and yet here she was, not moving.

"You should," he agreed, but he made no action to remove his hand as it ran up and down her back, soothingly. He didn't disentangle himself and though her rational, intelligent mind told her to get a move on, she stayed cuddled against him, embraced in his warmth. After a few more moments, he broke their comfortable silence. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Hermione knew right away who he was talking about; Elly. "Yes, very beautiful," she replied, nodding. "I don't think you saw us, but Sirius was holding her for awhile. He was also crying, but he held onto her tightly and he looked... They looked like they were really together for awhile. It was... It was really very sweet."

"I couldn't see it while I was there, but when I woke up... I could remember all of you being there," he told her, nodding. "They looked content really. Natural. It was refreshing," he said quietly, his voice rather deep.

Hermione nodded, unsure what else to say. He seemed happy just saying what they had and fell back into quietly holding her. Her leg was falling asleep though, the tiny pricking of nerves ran up and down her leg, making her shiver. She shifted against him, pressing her waist down into his as she tried to shake her leg awake, making her hips move back and forth. She looked up to Draco, only to see him biting his lip and holding his eyes shut tight. She moved a little more, letting her leg fall back, forgotten, and pushed herself up a little to see if he was okay. Before she could question his reaction, his hands stopped stroking on her back and moved to still her hips against his. Blushing, she realized why he was doing what he was doing. She had forgotten all about the fact that their intimate embrace may have inadvertently caused a physiological reaction while she innocently pressed herself into him.

"Sorry," she said, meekly. "My leg was asleep," she told him in way of explanation.

He nodded, his eyes still tight and his teeth still holding his lip captive. She didn't know what possessed her, but the next moment she was running her thumb against his bottom lip. She paused, shocked at her own brazen act. His eyes fell open, moving down to stare at her rather curiously. Her finger sat against the side of his mouth now, forgotten as she found herself lost in the depths of his silver gaze. His teeth let up, freeing his lip. She wondered if that meant he wasn't still feeling something because of her actions, of if he'd just been distracted by her finger against his mouth.

She felt his thumbs brush lightly against her sides, meeting her skin as her shirt had ridden up some. She felt a shiver run down her back and barely held back the quiver of a sigh that wanted to escape her mouth. She told herself to look away before she did something foolish, but her eyes refused her. He simply stared at her, his gaze unwavering and fingers still moving against her hips. Before she could think much on it, she trailed her thumb across the length of his bottom lip, taking in its soft, supple texture, before she repeated her action the opposite way. She felt herself moisten her lips and wondered if he had noticed.

His gaze had fallen to watch her thumb and she could feel a warning in the back of her mind, telling her to stop, to pull away, to get up and tell him she was going to go decipher his dream, anything but what she was doing. There was no going back though, and soon those warnings were drowned out by the warmth of him pressed against her, the heat emanating from his hands now fully holding her hips against his, his fingers drawing invisible shapes on her willing skin. A full body flush enveloped her and she found herself breathing a little quicker, wanting to replace her thumb with her mouth.

Her eyes flickered from his mouth to his eyes, watching him for some sort of reaction. Maybe he was just letting her do this, allowing her to act this way because he didn't know how else to react. Perhaps he didn't want to hurt her feelings. She was sure that was what it was, until he kissed the pad of her thumb. She felt her heart skip a beat and her eyes lifted to stare into his, locking and curiously searching his. He stared back, and she could swear she saw something behind those eyes that she had never seen in anybody else's.

Suddenly, she was lifting her upper body and leaning in, slowly, hesitantly, but still doing it. He met her halfway, his eyes still on hers as their lips met. She was fairly sure she whimpered in content, but had no certain facts as there was a rushing in her ears. He cradled her mouth, fitting to her like a puzzle piece. He lovingly lavished her bottom lip, his teeth lightly grazing it before he sucked on it gently. Hermione's hands fell from his hair, sliding down his neck slowly, fingers curling at the ends of his hair, lightly grazing his neck before they straightened out and did it again.

The kiss started out sweet and soft, gentle and hesitant. But it slowly began to quicken, their breathing picking up and their lips seeking refuge against each other as if their lives depended on it. His tongue slipped into her mouth, a sensation she had never experienced before. But she fell into it quite easily, tangling her own with his, letting herself explore his mouth. He tasted wonderful, though she couldn't find words to explain the flavor that exploded in her mouth.

She tried to tell her mind to work, to remind herself of what she was doing, but she finally just ignored the fact that she was doing something out of character and simply let it happen. For that moment, there would be no War or vendettas, or nightmares, or anything dark and consuming. It was just them. Just two people, satisfying a need she knew she had. To know he was alive and breathing, feeling and expressing. Whether he felt the same, she didn't know, but she did know that he was kissing her in a way that was far more than what two friends would.

One of his hands lifted from her waist, sliding up her back and burying itself in her hair. She felt him tug lightly at her curls, before wrapping them loosely in his fingers, holding her close to him. He broke away from her mouth, panting from the lack of air and trailed his lips up her cheek, adoringly pressing short kisses against her skin. She heard herself sigh, her eyes half open as she melted against him. He changed direction beside her eye and trailed down beneath her ear, before finding a sweet spot against her neck. Biting into her lip, she leaned in closer to him, her legs curling against his sides, her hips cradled against his.

Draco's teeth grazed her collar bone, making her shiver pleasantly, before he ascended her throat, tongue wetting her skin before he nipped at it and sucked lightly with each kiss. She was near delirious from his mouth and found his name hanging from the tip of her tongue. She'd never been kissed like this before. In fact, as far as she had gotten with kissing was mostly a few pecks on the lips from Viktor Krum in fourth year. She was certain though, that no matter who she could have kissed in the past, it would compare nothing to Draco. Whether he was experienced or just going on instinct she didn't know and she didn't think much on it, preferring to feel it rather than analyze it, which was a pretty big feat for her.

He finally reached her mouth, and Hermione sunk into the kiss, hoping to get across just how much she had enjoyed his slow and lavished journey over her skin. She found herself wanting nothing more than to kiss him for the rest of the day, for as long as she could, until she was forced to breath or eat or sleep. As long as she could keep doing what she was doing, enjoying what he was doing, pouring out that love she had for him, that was left stifling her in her quest to save him. He was warm, soft, and very much alive in her arms. For a brief moment she wondered if she was still sleeping and her mind was playing cruel but incredible tricks on her.

His hand slipped up the back of her shirt, fingers pressing into her skin, and she decided no matter how clever her mind was, she couldn't fake this. He turned her over suddenly and she found herself beneath him, still cradling his hips, still holding tight to him, and her mouth still pressed into his for all she was worth. Her shirt had ridden up, whether from how he had flipped her or because his hand on her back had moved it, she didn't know. She felt his shirt covered torso against hers though and couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if they were skin to skin. Her fingers moved of their own accord, undoing the buttons on his white shirt slowly, the texture feeling rough opposed to the smooth plains of his skin.

Some part of her mind cried out that she was acting hastily, without thinking, but she crushed it. She liked this, enjoyed the feel of him against her. She didn't want to stop, not yet anyway. Why shouldn't she enjoy his kiss? Revel in his touch? Fall deliriously into his arms if he left them open for her? He wasn't pushing her away, he wasn't telling her to stop, he was doing it to her, enjoying her, letting it happen. So she would too. Besides, what if it was the first and last time it ever happened. Then she'd at least have it, right?

This time she moved her mouth from his, trailing it over his strong jaw line, nipping lightly at it, before she moved down his throat. One of her hands worked on the small buttons, while the other wrapped around the back of Draco's neck, kneading at it pleasantly. His hips pressed into hers as she ran her tongue over his Adam's Apple, and she let out a soft moan against his throat. She felt him quiver against her, the arm left holding him up was pressed against hers, his hand around her shoulder squeezing it lightly.

As she kissed over his neck, she felt the ends of his soft, golden hair lightly graze her flushed cheek and she felt her eyes flutter from the sensation. Her hand popped the last of the buttons on his shirt and she ran it tentatively up his front, her fingers dipping into the contours of his strong stomach and running over his hard chest, settling on his broad shoulder. She found herself pushing the shirt down some, revealing his shoulders and part of his back to the warm breeze in the room. Her hands ran over the bare skin, feeling the muscles tense and relax against her fingers.

He was beautiful, like something created out of perfection. Molded just right, warm to the touch, exhilarating to the senses, and thoroughly enjoyable in every right. The way his chest moved rapidly, the quick sound of his breath as he too fell victim to the feel of lips against his skin, was encouraging and exciting. She'd never felt this before. This need and all encompassing want to do more, have more, experience every part of him. She was fast approaching a place she knew would end in something both beautiful and complicated, but she continued to ignore fears and doubts, warnings and worries.

Kissing her way up and over his jaw until she was settled over his mouth again, she let out a content sigh as he pressed his front against hers, his stomach taut against her own. His skin was hot and she felt a coil of excitement settle in her stomach. His hands slipped up her sides, brushing against the curve of her chest, his thumbs dragging her shirt a little higher, more skin finding more skin. His hands slipped up to wrap around her shoulders, tugging her higher, closer. In response, her leg curved up and moved over to slip in between his parted legs, where she used the leverage to push her hips up higher into him, without even realizing she was doing it. He groaned into her mouth and she felt it rumble through her, making her shake lightly against him.

Her hands pressed into his back, fingers kneading his skin while the shirt lay half down his arms and back. One of his hands left her shoulder to curl around her neck, tipping it up to reveal her neck to him as he broke away slowly from her mouth. She was left panting as she stared unseeing at the roof. His warm mouth against the skin of her throat had her biting her lip and letting out small whimpers of delight. She lifted a hand to thread into his hair, encouraging his movements.

His stomach rubbed against hers, along with his sensually rocking hips, and she felt herself falling into an oblivion of sensations. He rocked into her and she cradled him easily, his breath panting against her neck while his lips danced over her. She knew they should slow down, perhaps even stop, but she was stolen away by everything and she didn't want it to end. She whispered his name, though it came out low and needing. Her mouth fell open while her neck arched up and she inhaled deeply, a moan wanting to escape her mouth as he ground down against her and she held him tightly, pressing up into him. She wanted to ask him for more, to take that next step into something more intimate, and far more bare, but her question wouldn't get the chance to be asked.

"Draco, I--" Remus' voice interrupted their senses as he opened the door and came two steps inside. He stopped short, his eyes wide as Hermione stared at him in shock, knowing what they looked like, how utterly obvious it was what they were doing. She felt herself stiffen, her face turn bright red and her breath leave her. Draco had stopped moving against her, his mouth pressed limply against her throat.

Within a matter of seconds, both her and Draco seemed to gather their sense about them. Remus was so shocked he didn't think to leave, or even move. He was staring slack jawed, his eyes nearly popping from his head, rather comically. Draco rolled off of her, clearing his throat uncomfortably. She noticed he didn't get up though, more of sunk into the bed beside her, face down. Hermione, on the other hand, avoiding looking at Draco's face, adjusted her shirt and moved off the bed.

"I'm... I'm," she shook her head, trying to speak clearly and sensibly. "I'm going to the study," she told them meekly, before escaping the room and nearly running down the stairs. She nearly slipped, but was thankfully saved by the banister. Making her way to the study, she shut the door and locked it. Not having her wand with her, she simply hoped nobody thought to disturb her for a little while.

Her mind ran a muck and she was still shaking from both mortification of being caught, and enjoying what had been happening. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to calm herself down from everything. She cursed her body and the hormones that had her act so wanton. She berated herself for being so utterly obvious. He probably didn't even think of her in that way, but went along with it simply because it felt good! What if that was true? What if she had just made a complete fool of herself? Had she said anything while they were entangled with each other? Had she admitted anything she shouldn't have? What did Remus think of all this? Oh no! What if he told Sirius? And what if Sirius told Harry? And then Harry would tell Ron! And, she was already beyond mortification. Would her best friends hate her?

Slumping down to the floor, she felt tears collect in her eyes. "Stupid," she muttered to herself. How could she be so stupid? Smartest witch of her age, she was not! He had been hurting over imminent death and the terrifying dream he'd had of his mother. He had been holding her for comfort reasons, be it hers or his own, she didn't know. But she was sure that he hadn't meant for it to go the way it had. In fact, she was the one who had started it. Her and her damnably asleep leg! If she hadn't pressed a reaction out of him, he likely never would've done what he had. He was a boy after all, it was in their nature to act hormonally.

And she had almost... She had come so close to just handing herself over to him wholly. She was so willing in his arms, beneath his body. Dressed or not, they were acting far too intimate for her to pretend nothing had happened, or that nothing was coming. Had Remus not come in, how far would she have gone with him? She scoffed at herself, not even needing to really ask. She was more than willing, so entirely in love with them that she couldn't deny anything. If he asked her, she would likely leap from the top of the house. How could she be so unequivocally mindless?

Sighing, she shook her head. Deciding that stewing in her own pity was pointless, she moved to pick up a piece of parchment and start outlining Draco's nightmare and all that Elly had said. Perhaps if she took what happened off her mind with work, she could ignore the way her body still hummed from the contact she shared with him. It was foolish to harbor feelings for him, reckless and unfounded. He would never feel the same way and she had only caused herself more problems by practically forcing herself upon him. In the end, it was obvious. She was nothing but a heartsick, hormonal fool.

* * *

**A/N** _Obviously the vote ran in Hermione's favor, with a 17 count against Draco's 15. It was very close indeed! I told you there was more to come in the area of Hermione/Draco, and I hope this has sufficiently made up for the lack of it in the past. Well, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and the rest of the story. Once again, the vote is up to you:_

_**Harry** (follow him to get a better understanding of the Healer and the mysteries she possess)  
**Ron** (same as above, but with a rather comical twist on things, most likely)  
**Draco** (read through his feelings and go to the meeting with the invited Order members)  
**Sirius** (better understand what he's feeling, how he's coping, and go along to the meeting with the invited Order members)  
**Remus** (read his reaction to what he found in Draco's bedroom and follow him through an uncomfortable conversation, a startling understand, and then follow him to the meeting with the Order)  
**Lucius** (read about his feelings on Draco, as a child, in the present, and perhaps a little on Elly, Voldemort, or Sirius)_

_Hope you enjoy! Pick wisely lovely readers! Please leave a review, I'd love to know what you think!_

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	18. 18

**Review offering insight the story**:

"_Well first off, its me Emily. The horrid reviewer who has only reviewed Growing ONCE...Even though I read every single chapter, usually the day you post it. But, what can I say. I hate reviewing, I tend to think Im bad at it, and I generally forget all together. However, I've been reading A Family Affair since it first came out (surprise surprise) and after reading this last chapter I HAD to review. In short it was AMAZING! I dont care what Emma says about Growing being the best I think this latest chapter gave Growing a run for its money. AH reading that has honestly made my day a bit happier. No matter how loserish that makes me sound. shrugs off idiot feeling THEY FINALLY KISSED!...And kissed they did! Wow, wow, wow,wow. Believe me this chapter was deffinatly "sufficient" enough; more than enough in my opinion. I love how whenever you write a love scene between Draco and Hermione you write their emotions so wonderfully. I so very much enjoyed reading the verying emotions Hermione was feeling. It makes the scene more passionate and real. The way you portray Draco in this story is really appealing to me. His tender side and his tough outside mask is great too. I fall in love with Hermione and Draco's charactistics everytime I read a new chapter of yours. I get pulled into this story everytime I read it. Your the kind of author that can write a story where I dont want anything from the real world to disturb me when Im reading about Draco and his dreams. Its great to be able to sit down and read GOOD, LENGTHY chapters about my favorite ship, in a story with a creative and well thought out plot. Me being nerdy as I am, still cant think of the cure for Draco. I actually have thought about it (not at an obsessive level, mind you) but enough to get a bit frustrated! I hope the horrible dream Hermione, Harry and Serius went through pay off though! Im thinking Harry and Ron will deffinatly come across something helpful and I hope that evil nurse meets her doom! I hated her from the start! Lol. I could go on for ages! Anyways, I LOVED it! And I hope you know Im one of your most dedicated reading, even if Im a bloody dreadful reviewer! Oh yea cant forget my vote! Um...DRACO_" - **_UniTexasWriter11_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter eighteen**: _sleepingbeauty18, hanna, Pam Briggs, Michelle, geuxtigers06, dracosluvr18, grace, darbythomas, charmedsisters, Phoenix flame01, aquarmarine310, livelife-loveHGDM, xxRainDroPsxx, Kandygurl4, volleyball1988, Kourui, Katya Black et Rachel Lupin, Dragon of the Earth, ceriselover, TheRedRoseFairy, Hotkat144, untamedspiral, bananas, PS, Jester08, bantam, babygirl36554, alkalev, starzstuck-1, Amy, Sasmith, Nothing Left to Burn, aperfectattitude, Sam's Firefly, **niic smiles, Mrs.Synyster Gates, Tis Time, Laendra, Abraxnia, Runaway Roadkill, cherry666, Josephine Taylor, Zarroc, mimbulus-mimbletonia, Jen'sLostER**_ and_ especially **annieca, Hater-of-heartless-critics, l0vin'life, Melda-Egleriel, UniTexasWriter11**_ and **_galloping-goose_**.

**_A Family Affair_**  
-**18**-

Remus hadn't been able to witness the nightmare, but he'd seen enough in the reactions of Harry, Hermione, and especially Sirius to know that it was likely a good thing he hadn't. He remembered finding Harry, so broken and terrified. He wanted to know what had happened, what he had seen, but the boy was so shaken he could hardly form sentences. And before he could really question him, he was in a rage and leaving the house. Perhaps he should have followed him to make sure he did nothing foolish but he was overwhelmed with his best friend's reaction.

The gagging sounds of Sirius emptying his stomach down the hall called his attention, and he left the sobbing Hermione in Draco's arms for comfort. He found his fellow Marauder kneeling over the porcelain toilet, retching his guts out and crying desperately. He kept mumbling her name, "My sweet Elly," in between his gagging vomit. "No, no, no," he would mutter, shaking his head just seconds before his shoulders would lift and he'd throw up all over again. He stayed there a long time, even after there was nothing left for his stomach to be rid of. Remus had to practically carry him to bed, which wasn't much of a feat, seeing as his natural strength combined with his werewolf abilities made everything feel light.

After putting Sirius down in his room, which was dark and drafty, fit to his mood, he pulled up a chair and tried to talk his friend down from his misery. But Sirius wasn't listening, he was lost in his mind. He kept rolling side to side, his hands gripping the blankets and sheets as he stared out, as if seeing whatever it was he was saw. And he'd call out to her, sobbing for her freedom, and all Remus could do was hope that he would recover. He wanted to call a Healer but he was sure his best mate would throttle him when he was a little more of sound mind.

He spent hours in that room, sometimes fetching water to calm Sirius' dry, raw throat from his screaming and sobbing. He tried to get him to eat, but his friend only turned away. After awhile, his crying stopped, but he turned onto his side and curled into himself. He refused to speak, to move, to do anything really. He simply lay there, his eyes wide and unseeing. Remus didn't know what to do. He had gone in to ask Draco for help but found him holding a sleeping Hermione, and knew that his godson wouldn't or couldn't let her go. So he spoke quietly, asked him what he should do.

The only thing Draco could tell him was that he should keep talking. "_He may not look like he's listening, but he is. It'll calm him down, comfort him_," Draco said. And so Remus did just that. He spent hours telling stories, happy and refreshing, and then he'd tell his friend that things would get better. He'd remind him that there was a chance now, that Draco might just be saved after all. And while he didn't think Sirius was listening or caring, he unfurled himself some and relaxed a little into the bed. But when he accidentally said Elly's name, he reverted back to being a ball of remorse, crying again in his wide eyed stupor.

Feeling as though he botched it all, he went hurrying to Draco, only to be met by a surprising sight. Opening the door wide, not thinking to knock, he said, "Draco, I--" before all his words failed him. His nephew lay in an obviously intimate position, on top of the young Miss Granger. He didn't need to be an Alchemist to figure what was going on. Their legs were tangled, their hips were pressed tightly against each other, rocking and meeting in a way that said more than words. Hermione's hands had pushed Draco's opened shirt half down his back, her fingers kneading his skin for a response. Draco had Hermione's shirt half up her torso, revealing her stomach which was pressed against Draco's bare front. And Draco's mouth was working diligently on Hermione's neck. The way they were provocatively moving together, Remus worried that perhaps more clothes were missing than he knew, as the blanket was blocking any view of below their waists. He swallowed, fear building up in his throat.

Shocked into silence and stillness, Remus found himself standing at the door, his hand still on the knob and his face wide in an expression he couldn't control. They heard him though, heard his words as he called out for his nephew and a moment later they were detangled. Hermione practically leapt off the bed, straightening herself and blustering over her saying she was leaving then, to the study or some such place and running off with a face so bright a Weasley would be put to shame. Remus was comforted by the fact that her pants were on and completely done up, so he hadn't walked in on anything _too_ intimate. He let out a small sigh of gratitude when he realized they had just been heavily snogging and nearly thanked his godson for that piece of information, only to find him laying face down on the bed, his body angled funny as his shoulders heaved with trying to get his breath back.

Suddenly feeling nervous and unsure, Remus looked around for a means of escape. He could run away, pretend he saw nothing, or say something that would most likely make them both feel like idiots. Deciding that since Draco's father was incapacitated and he had always been able to talk to his godson about anything, he moved to sit in the chair Harry had occupied early that morning. He cleared his throat, letting Draco know that he was there and he wasn't leaving until they spoke. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, still feeling the need to run away and _Obliviate_ himself of the sight he'd just seen.

Draco opened one eye to look at him then closed it tight. He lifted on hand to motion for him to give him a minute and then he turned over on his back, pulling the blankets up over his waist and throwing an arm over his eyes as he smiled before letting out a deprecating laugh. "Always nice to see you, Remus," he murmured, his voice sounding strangled and raspy.

Remus had no idea what to say to that, but was vaguely reminded of when Draco had shown up at his place, finding him and Tonks in a half dressed embrace. He shook his head, wondering how to talk to a seventeen year old boy about things like intimacy and safe sex. Was he ever given this talk? Oh right, it was Sirius who told him all about it. Of course, he was using it more to embarrass his best friend rather than inform him. Still though, he figured it out. "Er, Draco, you know, Hermione, she's..." He lifted his hands, running them over his face as he tried to pull the words together. He wanted to say she was special, that she wasn't the type of girl to just jump into a physical relationship, especially when the knowledge that the person she's with could die at any moment was still very much a possibility.

However, he knew both Hermione and Draco quite well, and he had seen them together for the last while, so he somewhat understood what their relationship was like. He had seen the tense line of friendship that first evolved, and from that the caring atmosphere and adoring nature of Hermione came out full force while Draco was suffering for those three days. It was after the news from the Healer broke that Hermione's feelings became all the more obvious for the boy in question. Spending hours in the study, hardly eating or sleeping, searching all the time for a cure. Remus knew how she felt, but Draco's feelings were a little more questionable.

He wanted to say it was obvious that Draco loved her but he couldn't. His godson was an expert at hiding emotion. He cared, that much could be seen from the way he held her or spoke to her, but that didn't mean he was willing to put his vendetta on the line for her. Still, the way Remus had found them spoke volumes. He'd never seen Draco with any girl before, he always seemed too busy for relationships and girlfriends, but he looked like a natural with Hermione. If Remus didn't know better, he'd say Draco and Hermione were a couple in love. The way he held her, touched her, kissed her, it was all so utterly adoring. He looked gentle, which was something Remus had never seen in Draco before.

Draco didn't seem inclined to make him keep talking, instead ignoring what he had been saying and turning his attention to closing his shirt. He lifted both sides, settling them over his bare chest and buttoning a few buttons in the center, leaving the rest to dangle open, revealing his stomach and part of his chest. He reminded Remus of a young Sirius, when he used to keep his shirt the same way, enticing the many girls who fawned after him. Draco rested his hand over his heart, drumming a random beat as he calmed down. He didn't look put off much by what was happening, appearing more content than anything.

"I just... I... Hermione is..." Remus stuttered, shaking his head. He was usually so outgoing with Draco, so calm and collected that his own appearance and actions were appalling him. Ever since Draco had become a more stable part of his life, he found himself happier. It was as though some of the darkness had receded. He had his best friend Sirius and his godson back. While things were still dangerous in the world and life was always in a precarious position, he could find comfort in the fact that he had family now. "I want you to be careful, Draco," he told him, quietly, feeling those words made a lot of sense.

"Careful how?" Draco asked, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Careful with her heart," he replied, his voice soft but warning.

His godson stiffened then, his whole body seemed to go rigid and it became obvious that he realized his uncle was speaking about matters of emotions, not physical desires. He likely thought he was going to have a good time making his uncle feel uncomfortable, but instead had it turned on him. Emotion was Draco's weakness, he hated feeling vulnerable or connecting to anybody and Remus knew that well. "I'm not playing with her heart," Draco said, removing his arm from his eyes and turning annoyed eyes on his uncle.

"You were playing with something though weren't you," he replied dryly, his brow lifting. He sighed when Draco scowled at him. "You were both in a very emotionally unstable moment, you went to each other for comfort, I understand that. She was upset, you tried to comfort her, or maybe it was the other way around, I don't know... I just think, with the way things are," he said slowly, letting it trail off.

"What, you mean with me ready to die and her ready to do anything to stop it from happening?" Draco replied, looking furious. "That's not the only problem though, my inevitable death. No, it's that you think I'm going to turn around and hurt her, right? Because I'm emotionally cut off, because I have a hard enough time connecting to my father, right?" he asked, sitting up and lifting his legs so he could lean his arms on them. "Or is it just that you don't think I'm good enough for her? Too damaged, right?"

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself before continuing. "What you were doing, Draco, it..."

"Why don't you tell me what you think was going to happen?" Draco asked, turning to stare at him. "Because obviously you thought things were going to go a lot farther than what they were. It's not as if we set out to do anything that could potentially hurt either of us. We kissed, that's it," he said, shrugging.

"Kissed," Remus said, incredulously. "Draco, when people kiss, their clothes can stay _ON_! And their hips... they don't..." he made motions with his hands, feeling his face heat up at the implication he was making. "There was gyrating, Draco, and it wasn't between your mouths. Hell, your shirt was nearly off and you looked to be doing the same to her," he told him, his voice stuttering in his fluster.

Draco laughed, shaking his head and directing his eyes down as he tried to smother his smirk with his hands.

"This isn't funny," Remus told him, his voice strangled. "If I hadn't come in..."

"Then we would've stopped," Draco told him quickly. "Eventually. Look..." He sighed, shaking his head, "Will you stop worrying? We were caught up like you said, won't happen again," he said, rolling off the bed and making his way to the door. "I'm going to go see dad," he told him, about to escape.

"Wait," Remus stopped him, standing up and twisting his hands around each other, searching for words. "Draco, d'you know about pregnancy charms, or-or-or anything like that? I mean--"

"Remus," Draco interrupted, shaking his head with an exasperated expression. "We weren't going to do _that_, all right? Just drop it," he told him, strongly. Before his uncle could reply, he turned and hurried out of the room.

"Smooth, Remus, very smooth," he muttered to himself, letting out a nervous chuckle and slumping back into the chair he had been occupying. "If in nine months there is a toddler in this house, you can blame your ineptness," he scolded, shaking his head. "As soon as Sirius is feeling better, we are having a talk with that boy!" he decided, nodding shortly. "Bloody hell, Remus, stop talking to yourself." Feeling his neck heat up, he stood from the chair and made his way out of the room to go down the hall to see how Sirius was doing. He stopped when he heard Draco speaking.

He stood in the doorway, watching as Draco sat curled in the chair beside his father's bed. Sirius stared out at him, his eyes looking dead to the world. His arm hung off the bed, hand open and limp. Draco had his legs curled up on the chair, one beneath him and the other upturned where he rested his arm. His nephew stared out at Sirius, an understanding look on his face before he slowly reached out, wrapping his hand around his father's. "She looked beautiful," he told him, quietly. "She always does. She talks about you sometimes, you know. She... She really loved you, dad." Draco's face cleared of its earlier expressions while talking with Remus, he now looked a whole lot more troubled. "You looked _right_ with her, you know. When you stood with her, for a second... for a second I felt like I was just talking to my parents. It was... It was incredible," he breathed, his eyes filling quickly with tears.

Remus was startled to see Sirius' hand react, tightening around Draco's. Draco used his free arm to wipe the tears spilling down his face and sniffled quickly, coughing to try and cover his emotional outpour. Remus knew he should leave, let them have this time alone, and yet he was drawn in by seeing such an open connection between father and son. It was so rare and yet so painfully strong.

"I want to tell you it's not usually that bad. I want to stop you from worrying or thinking about it, but I can't. It's not always the same though, so I don't see exactly that every time. And she... She's gone, so she doesn't really feel it, right?" Draco said, posing it as a question rather than a statement. "She wouldn't... she wouldn't want you to hurt like this and she... She loves you, you heard her say it. Nobody wants someone they love to hurt like this." He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly.

His jaw clenched and his breathing picked up to the point where he looked as if he was panting with the agony of speaking so freely. "I warned you," he murmured. "I didn't want you to see that, I didn't want... I... Why do you have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't you just stay here and not-not..." Draco let his breath out in a shuddering sigh, running his arm over his face again. "It's hard enough knowing that I have to see it every night, but I didn't want to think that you would too. I don't want you to see her like that or remember her like that." He grit his teeth, his face curling with agonized anger. "It _hurts_. Merlin, it hurts all the time. But you, you didn't have to feel it too. Don't you get that?" he asked, squeezing his eyes shut and lifting his free hand to press tight against his face, his shoulders shaking.

"All those nights," Sirius whispered, his voice taut with pain. "Every time I heard you scream, saw you shaking and crying out, you were... you were seeing her like _that_. And I did nothing," he told him, shaking his head as his eyes still stared out blankly. "I did _nothing_," he roared, his anguish bursting out. "Your own mother, Draco. You had to see her like that. And the blood! THE BLOOD!" he screamed, tears blindly running down his face. "Nobody stopped it, they all... We've all just let it happen and we never... we never should have... No wonder you're dying... How could you ever manage this long? I couldn't..." He shook his head, turning on his back and curling his face up in fear and pain. "You're just a little boy, you shouldn't..."

Draco made no comment, still shaking violently. Remus felt something tear at his heart and he wanted nothing more than to hurry to him, to embrace him and tell him it would all be okay. But it wasn't for him to do. Not now. It was Sirius' job, he had to be the father, he had to learn how to comfort his son properly. Draco was mentally scarred, emotionally broken, and in need of a father. His hand was still wound tightly around Sirius', but he made no attempt to look up at his dad or reply to his tortured crying and strangled words.

"Draco," Sirius beckoned, shaking his hand some. "Son, look at me," he asked, tugging at him. "Please, I'm sorry. I should have... I should have done so many things, and I can't... I can't make up for them. But, please, I... I don't know what else to say."

"I don't understand why," Draco told him, his voice a strangled gasp. "I don't understand why I have to see it or where it comes from. I don't... I don't..." He was nearly convulsing, his chest heaving so bad and his tears pouring down freely. "Why do I think those things? Why do I have to see her like that? Why? I don't..." He shook his head, inhaling thickly. "It's all my fault. All my fault. And I can't stop it. I can't help her. I can't--"

"Don't do that," Sirius told him, his voice quiet. He pulled his son from his chair, fairly ripping him from the seat and pulling him near him. Draco was left kneeling on the floor while Sirius moved to embrace him. His arm wrapped upward against Draco's shoulder, his hand cradling his head and pressing it against his chest. His son sobbed against him, asking for forgiveness, apologizing for not saving her. And Sirius kept telling him, over and over, that it wasn't his fault. They sat there awhile, crying and reassuring each other. Remus was left with the startling understanding that while Draco and Sirius weren't the closest of sons and fathers, they had a tight bound relationship that was far more strong than many knew.

Draco's hands were curled around his father's shirt as he pressed his face further against his chest. His eyes were so tightly shut, Remus wondered if was still trying to stop the emotional breakdown. If he were trying to force the tears back. It didn't matter, Sirius wouldn't let him go. He held him so tight Remus was surprised the boy was still breathing. And for one stark moment, Remus thought he saw Sirius holding a little boy. A small replica of what Draco would've been as a child. And he couldn't help the painful reminder that Sirius had never been able to take care of his son like this when Draco was little. And Draco had to go through everything all alone, with nobody to tell him it wasn't his fault, nobody to say there was nothing he could do.

Remus fairly had to tear himself from the door, knowing he was listening in too much. He turned his back on the room, closing the door quietly and only now realizing that his face was littered with tears. He wiped them away quickly, shaking his head and making his way downstairs. He went to the kitchen, seeking solitude and threw something together for lunch. His mind was still reeling from all that had happened that day and he wasn't sure what to do about anything. Sitting in the dining room, he stared out the clear window, watching as unknowing Muggles passed by the property without any idea that a house sat there, occupied by a group of very troubled people.

He sipped his tea, feeling only faintly warm as he recalled the morning and wondered worriedly where Harry and Ron were. He had no idea where he could try looking for them. He didn't know what there plan was or what happened in the dream to set Harry off. He only hoped that the boys hadn't done anything foolish and decided to give it a little while before he alerted anybody that something was wrong. If they had only gone out to let off a little steam, then he didn't want to interrupt. It was obvious that whatever had happened in the nightmare was enough to throw off the strongest of them. Besides, even if Harry was being rash, Ron had to have some sense to him, didn't he? He wasn't exactly comforted by that thought and rose from his chair.

He was about to walk through the swinging door when Hermione walked in. Spotting him, she immediately turned scarlet and began to stutter an apology for interrupting. She tried to back out of the room but he called her back, asking her to sit down with him. If he couldn't talk to Draco about what had happened, perhaps he'd have an easier time with the much more rational party. He reminded himself that she too was in the intimate embrace he had found, so she wasn't that much more rational than Draco. She was in love with him though, wasn't she? Perhaps that was why she had acted the way she had. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on the fidgeting girl in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as nervous and frustrated as he was. "I... I mean after the nightmare, not..." He almost slapped himself for that slip up. Of course she knew he meant the nightmare and not her snog. Why would he ask her that?

If possible, she turned even more red, her eyes looking away from him quickly. "I, uh, I'm okay," she told him, nodding quickly. "I was actually just deciphering some of it, if you, er, care to hear about that," she offered, hopefully.

"Maybe later," he replied, clearing his throat. "So you and Draco..."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping and her face falling completely. He almost wanted to take it back, she looked so entirely defeated. She leaned back in her chair, her gaze wandering off and her mouth curling in a frown. "I... I don't know what to tell you. I guess I lost my mind and my, er... hormones," she told him, flushing. She played with her fingers uncomfortably on the table top.

Remus exhaled heavily, not sure what to tell her. "Look Hermione, I understand that you and Draco... you're close. After all that's happened, you've been the one person who seemed in control. I mean that in the best way possible. You... you've been a real friend to him this last while. I don't..." He shook his head. "I have no idea what we would've done without you. He really relies on you and I understand why you've... why you've developed certain feelings for him. It's not unlikely and..."

"Feelings," she snorted, her eyes filling with tears. "What am I _doing_ professor?" she asked, leaning forward and looking completely heartbroken. "He doesn't... He could _never_... Not for me!" she told him, sounding hiccupy and worried. "No, no, I'm not beautiful or funny or any of those things. I'm just... I'm just _me_! And I have absolutely nothing to offer someone like him! With his silver eyes and his perfect physique and his-his-his..." Tears fell down her cheeks and she shook her head. "He wants friendship, he deserves friendship, and here I am with this silly crush and-and I practically FORCED myself on him!" she told him hysterically.

"Oh, Hermione, I don't think you forced--" he tried to tell her.

"YES! Yes, I did," she told him, nodding with her eyes wide. "We were just laying there and he was stroking my back and it was all quiet because we just... we didn't _need_ to talk, you know. It was comfortable and nice. And then, I-I had to go and move and he..." She blushed then, glancing nervously at him. "Well I didn't think anything of it, I mean my leg was asleep and so I tried to wiggle it to wake it up and the next thing I know he's holding my hips and telling me to stop moving. So, of course, naturally, you know, I figure out what I've done. And I stopped, I really did. But then he was biting his lip, professor, and it was just... it was just so..." She closed her eyes, letting it out a frustrated huff and then reopened them, looking apologetic.

"So I reached out and I touched it, you know? Because... well I don't know why, I just... I-I wanted to. And he... He kissed my finger and it was all over from there. Because he just, he looked so... so _kissable_ right then, you know?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears again as she shook her head. "And I leaned in and he leaned in and then it was happening. And the next thing I know we're rolling around and clothes are being moved around and his mouth is on my neck and I'm trying to touch every part of him, and I just- I just- Oh I forced him to, all right! I did! He never would have if I hadn't! And he- He's so- Oh, I'm horrible, aren't I? I really am! He wanted to be friends and I completely took advantage of him. And now I'm crying like a bloody fool! What is my problem?" She asked him, shaking her head.

Standing from her chair, she sniffled, wiping at her face and giving him a watery smile. "Thank you, professor. You've been so nice about this! I understand that you were worried and don't, because it will _never_ happen again. All right? Draco and I... we'll just... we're just friends," she told him, nodding curtly. "Yes, that's how it's supposed to be, right? Right. I'm going back to the study now, I think I just remembered something else Elly said." And before Remus could say anything she was gone, and the door was swinging back and forth behind her.

Staring out the window, his eyes wide and his shock evident, he tried to swallow the ball of words in his throat. What just happened? Shaking his head, he tried to remember all that she said and found himself almost blushing with some of the things that came to mind. "Forced him," he repeated, letting out an amused chuckle. It was obvious that they both took part in what happened and he was now far too informed and he felt even more like he wanted to clean his mind out. He knew for a fact that Hermione was going to be blushing whenever she saw him for at least a week. Especially after she realized just how much she had said. He felt bad for her though, he didn't think she should be walking around with the belief that she had seduced Draco and it hadn't been a mutual thing. Sighing, he left it up to the boy in question to explain his own position on what happened between them.

Clearing up his dishes, Remus decided to go home and change for the meeting later that afternoon. He found Tonks sitting on his couch and quickly explained to her all that happened. After showering and dressing, she finally convinced him that they had to go back to Grimmauld so she could see for herself that Sirius and Draco were all right. The rest of the afternoon passed in relative peace. Ron and Harry didn't arrive until a little while before the meeting of certain Order members and neither of them looked happy. They refused to talk about where they went or what happened, but Remus noted that they both looked like they got into a scuffle with someone.

At nearly eight at night, the majority of the Weasley's, Hestia Jones, Moody, Hagrid, Madame Maxime, Headmistress McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt were found milling around the den, looking curious. Remus sat on the couch, Tonks beside him as he waited for Sirius and Draco to make their entrance. Hermione walked into the room, her arms filled with books and parchment. Harry and Ron helped her carry them over to a sofa where she put everything down and spread it out in a certain order. There was a murmuring going around the room as people speculated on why they were there.

"No, I'll tell them," Sirius' voice could be heard saying as he came closer to the den.

"You don't even know what you're telling them," Draco accused, sounding exasperated.

"Do too! Something about Cruxwhores," he assured, his voice proud.

"Hor-cruxes," Draco replied, amused. "Were you not listening when I told you what Dumbledore said?"

"You said a lot that night, Draco, half of it was unintelligible! Like when you were going on about a spice cabinet," he reminded, his tone confused.

"Vanishing cabinet, dad, and I have no idea what you're referring to when you say 'spice'." Draco could be partly seen at the doorway before he was pulled back and Sirius could be heard speaking again.

"Are you sure you want to tell them that? Cause we could just... you know, hunt it all on our own. It'll be a real adventure, you know? Me, you, Harry, Remus, Ron, and Hermione," he offered, sounding excited. "Course you're going to have to be more careful with your feelings for H-" his words became muffled and Remus smothered a smirk when he realized his nephew had covered his father's mouth.

"Stop that," Draco interrupted, sounding a bit flustered. "Look, Dumbledore trusted his Order with everything else and I..." He cleared his throat. "Time is of the essence, I want these things found fast," he told him, his voice thick and hard.

"Okay," Sirius said, sounding sad and defeated, though Remus was sure it was more over the mention of little time rather than his loss of adventure. "Go on then, you can't leave them waiting forever," he ushered.

Draco sighed and as he backed up toward the doorway, he could be seen rolling his eyes. When he turned to look at them, it must've been obvious that everyone had been listening because he frowned. "Not ones for discretion, are you?" he asked, lifting a brow.

"Constant vigilance," Moody shouted. "Gotta be on our guard, boy, can't ignore anything that could be important."

"Right, because I wasn't going to tell you what I was talking about, the whole point of this meeting and all," Draco replied, exasperated. Before Moody could reply, he turned back to Sirius. "Are you going to be bothered if I'm blunt?" he asked him, looking rather worried.

Sirius looked uncertain for a moment, before he shook his head. Draco nodded slowly, then turned to Remus, obviously asking the same question. Swallowing, Remus shook his head too, knowing that if they were all going to help Draco, they had to have the information needed. Remus wasn't surprised to see him then look over at Hermione and glance at Harry. As a group, all three students, including Ron, turned their heads back and forth, though Hermione looked to be frowning.

Sighing, Draco nodded before turning to look at the group ahead of him. "Great, so you've all been asked here for one reason and one reason only. Dumbledore trusted you," he told them simply. "I'm not going to lie and say I feel the same why, I hardly know any of you. However, I trust his decision to make you part of his Order and that's why I'm willing to offer you a part in what's going to take place within the next few weeks," he told them all, rather cryptically.

"And just what is that, Mr. Black?" McGonagall asked, looking speculative.

Draco briefly smiled, apparently amused at the use of "Black" instead of "Malfoy." He moved his eyes over the crowd quickly, taking in the anxious expressions and Remus felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach. "Well there's good news and there's bad news. Depending on who you are, really," he said, shrugging. Sirius appeared to be reaching out to place a hand on his son's shoulder, but Draco shook his head at him almost imperceptibly and his father's hand fell away. "Bad news is..." He cleared his throat, his eyes falling to look at Hermione. "I'm dying," he said, sounding most nonchalant. There was a collective gasp before murmurings started. Draco never lifted his gaze from Hermione's, his expression calm and untainted by the talk around him. He pulled his eyes away when he continued on, "Good news is, I know how to kill Voldemort," he told them, nodding. Even more noise broke out at the news. Undaunted, he shook his head, crossed his arms, and waited for them to quiet down some. "Right, do any of you know what Horcruxes are?" he asked.

Harry cleared his throat, looking up at Draco with a mildly surprised expression. "They're objects that hold fragments of a dark wizards soul," he replied, his voice emotionless.

Draco nodded, not looking the least bit shocked that Harry knew about what he was talking of. "Right, and Voldemort had six of them. Less now that some of them have been destroyed. In order to fully kill Voldemort, we have to find the rest of the Horcruxes and destroy them," he told the Order quickly. "Because of my position in this, we're on a time limit. Now I know that it's possible that everything won't get done before I'm gone," he said, sighing, "but I'd like to finish what I started," he finished, shrugging.

Remus watched as the people around him each held an expression of pity. They stared at Draco a moment before turning it on Sirius, all looking as though they wanted to comfort him like it had already happened and his son was gone. Sirius met them all with a hard gaze, stepping up to stand beside his son, as though trying to remind them all that he was still alive and right there.

"Mr. Black," McGonagall said, rising from the chair she occupied. "If it isn't too brazen to ask, may I query as to what has you ill?" she asked, her expression one of a kind, grandmotherly worry. She held a handkerchief in her hands which she was twisting in her concern. The rest of the Order members all seemed to lean forward, looking interested in the explanation.

Draco looked completely uncomfortable and he shifted in place, turning his gaze away from them and to his father. Hermione was the one to reply, she stood up from her place on the couch and turned frigid eyes on everyone. "I believe the basics are all that are needed here," she told them all, strongly. "Draco was accommodating enough to share what was happening and I don't think he wants to tell a room full of people he doesn't know very well all about a very private experience."

"Obviously she knows," George Weasley announced, lifting a brow and staring at her suspiciously. "Just because you're Draco's bird, doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't know why we're hurrying this all up."

"You do know," she replied coldly, her words sharp and her gaze even more deadly. Remus was surprised to see George take a step back, before comically pushing his twin in front of him.

"Save me, Fred, she's out to kill me," he exclaimed.

"You're on your own, brother. Never talk back to a girl in love, mate," Fred Weasley replied, smirking and winking at the young brunette in front of him.

Sirius could be heard chuckling softly while Draco cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. He was doing a good job concealing his discomfort, Remus thought. Only those who really knew him could see that he wasn't appreciating how the conversation had turned. "The point is, three Horcruxes have been destroyed," he told them.

"_Three_, but I thought there was only _two_," Harry said, looking up at him with surprise.

"The diary and the ring are the ones you and Dumbledore destroyed, but I found Slytherin's locket a week after..." he trailed off, sure everybody knew what he was meaning. "While we were cleaning this place up I found a whole bunch of junk including a charred heavy locket with the Slytherin "S" on it. I couldn't open it and dad mentioned that you guys had found it awhile back. It's exactly what Dumbledore told me the locket would look like so I took a chance. It took awhile, but I did some research in this book Dumbledore gave me. I figured I needed to get the locket open and that was how I'd destroy it, so I looked all over for some kind of charm that would do it. Instead, I found a letter from my uncle Regulus--"

"What?" someone shouted.

"You know, Regulus Arcturus Black, R.A.B," he clarified, staring at Harry, Hermione, and Ron, as though he was clearing something up for them. "In any case, he left a letter along with how Horcruxes are made and who this one was from. Then he explained that he had destroyed it. He didn't go into how he did it," he told them frowning, "Mostly wrote some rather scathing remarks about Voldemort and his ineptness." Shrugging, he turned back to the crowd of shocked people. "So, that leaves three Horcruxes to be found. One is Hufflepuff's cup, but the other two are up for debate."

Harry stood up, running a hand through his hair. "Hermione, Ron, and I can share the information we've gathered so far," he offered, shrugging lightly.

Draco nodded, turning to look out at everyone else. "Hunting these down will take research and patience. And when that's done, we'll likely be going into some fairly volatile places, especially if Voldemort finds out we're coming. None of you have any obligation to this, you can forget you know anything and be called in when all of this is done," he announced, waiting calmly by the door.

Sirius nodded at him and then turned to Remus, who was sitting on the couch, looking around curiously. He had already been let in on Draco's information and had no problem deciding that he was going to be a part of the hunt. Not only because he wanted to take part in bringing down Voldemort, but because if things didn't go as planned, then he wanted Draco to get his last wish. Hermione stood up, catching everybody's attention once more.

She held up papers and looked around at everyone expectantly. "Those of you who are participating can take one of these. This is all the information we've gathered on Voldemort's background. It'll better help us search for everything," she told them. After a moments hesitation, members reached out, taking the papers from her hands and moving back to begin reading over everything.

"Any questions?" Sirius asked, looking out at everyone.

They all looked as though they needed time to take everything in. "All right then. Those of you who are sure you want to be interested in this mission can be back here two days from now. That'll give us all time to go over what we have and decide on our next move. Agreed?" Remus asked them all, as he rose from his seat and crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

Everyone nodded and they slowly began filing out via flooing. Remus sat back down with Tonks, who tugged on his hand so he would talk with her awhile about the information on her sheet. He wasn't surprised when Ron and Harry made a quick exit, both whispering to each other and looking rather suspicious. Sirius was caught up in a conversation with McGonagall, who Remus was sure wanted to know all about what was wrong with Draco. Sirius looked harried and upset and Remus wanted nothing more than to take his place and explain what he could but when he started to move Sirius shook his head at him, apparently wanting to talk to McGonagall on his own.

It was Hermione's exit that really drew his attention. She had packed up the remainder of her papers and stacked her books on top of each other. She charmed them to float to the destination she wanted and he wondered why she didn't do that in the first place. The light blush on her cheeks told him she had just realized she could. It was when she was walking through the door that she was stopped by Draco. His hand slid down her back, settling just above her waist while hers lifted to rest on his sides. He leaned down to her, whispering something against her ear, his eyes closed and his face soft. Remus found his brow furrowed as he watched them, noticing the great care his nephew took as he touched her and spoke to her. It was a side of Draco he still wasn't used to seeing.

For one completely ridiculous moment he felt the urge to separate them. Then he reminded himself that it wasn't as if they were going to suddenly start making love up against the wall for all to see. Shaking his head, he told himself he was being beyond thickheaded. Still though, everytime her hands moved against Draco's sides he was reminded of when she said she wanted to touch all of them. There was an itch in the back of his throat and he was startled when he nearly shouted, "_YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO HAVE BABIES_!" He caught himself from making a fool, thankfully.

Finally, Draco kissed Hermione's temple and she turned to hug him warmly. Remus decided it was more of a friendly gesture than anything and came to the conclusion that neither had admitted any real feelings for each other. Perhaps his godson had told her friendship was the right path and she simply accepted it, Remus couldn't tell. He did know that Draco didn't look entirely happy by what he had said, but more accepting than anything. His chin rested on Hermione's hair while his arms encircled her. He opened his eyes slowly, saying something quietly before letting her go so she could leave to the study. Remus watched as Draco followed Hermione with his eyes and finally turned back, leaning back against the door with defeat, his face drawn and sad. He didn't appear to notice he had an audience and so Remus turned away quickly when Draco turned to him. A moment later he left the room, walking up the stairs and taking refuge in his room.

"Silly, isn't it?" Tonks said, drawing his attention.

"What's that?" Remus wondered, leaning back against the sofa and running his hand absently up and down her back.

"They obviously have feelings for each other but they continue to dilute themselves into thinking either will be better off without them. He thinks he's saving her from heartbreak, she thinks he only wants friendship. Silly, if you ask me. If Draco is really... If he's..." She broke off, her eyes closing and her mouth quivering for a moment. Inhaling deeply, she nodded quickly before continuing, not giving Remus a moment to make her feel better. "If he's going to be leaving us, then he should relish in these moments he has her, don't you think? Why not fall in love? Why not enjoy what he has with Hermione? It's not as if he's ever let himself before, he should do it now, while... While he still can," she said, shaking her head and rising from the sofa.

Remus didn't know what to say. He agreed that his nephew should find love and enjoy whatever life gave him, especially now. But he was worried about what would happen in the end. Hermione would be left to mend her broken heart if Draco died and he would go regretting that he had to. There was a lot of emotion involved and Remus didn't know what he'd do if he were in the same place. He sighed, shaking his head and rising to stand next to his girlfriend. "I don't know, Dora dear," he told her.

"Yes you do, Remy love," she told him, smiling. "Love has no understanding of death. It works with trust and connections. Obviously those two were meant for this, it can't be denied. It's not the way of things. They'll realize it, and when they do, they're going to be angry with themselves for every avoiding it. Just you wait," she told him, winking. "Now come on. I want to go home."

Nodding, Remus followed her to the fireplace. He sent one last look out at the house behind him, hoping the occupants inside would be okay. Between so-called unrequited love, mysterious adventures, and broken hearted fathers, the house was a mess. Which reminded him, wherever was the house elf named Dizzy? He hadn't seen her in quite some time. Sighing, he turned back when he heard Tonks disappear into the floo system.

Tomorrow would be an interesting day. He would have to talk to Sirius about what he saw and they would eventually have to have "The Talk" with Draco. Perhaps Ron and Harry would sit in too. One thing was for sure though, Hermione would _not_ be involved. Female emotions were quite volatile, he'd noticed. He wasn't about to subject himself or anyone else to Hermione's, or any girl's really, hysterical worries and unfounded certainty that she had been the seducer. No, that was best left forgotten. Besides, if all went well, Draco would be deterred from sex entirely. That was what "The Talk" was for anyway, right? He only hoped Sirius didn't take the same approach with the three boys as he had with him. Shuddering, he called out his destination and stepped into the fireplace.

* * *

**A/N**_ Wow, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. The vote came out with an astounding **31** votes for Remus, **21** for Draco, **11** for Harry, **9** for Ron, and **1** for both Lucius and Sirius. I hope this chapter was worth it! Vote for who you want next:_

_**Harry  
Draco** - and THE dreaded but amusing SEX TALK  
**Ron  
Sirius  
Hermione  
Lucius  
Other**_

_Thanks so much reading, please leave a review!  
Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	19. 19

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_I have lots of comments--so many, in fact, that I think I shall number them! 1. I have no idea how you write chapters with that voting system--seriously, I'm amazed. I have to plan things out, or at least have a good idea of where I'm going, but you are able to start off wherever it is the people want you to go. That's pretty awesome, and I'm incredibly jealous. 2. I thought this chapter had some pretty amusing moments! I kept cracking up. When Hermione was giving Remus every detail of what had happened with Draco, I kept imagining Remus's face. Hahaha! 3. The scene with Sirius and Draco was beautifully written. It's impressive that you can keep both characters IN character during an emotional scene when neither one known for being forthright with their emotions. It would be so easy for that scene to be forced and awkward--a manipulation of the characters for your story's purposes. But it's not, and I just love that. Fantastic! 4. I also like that you go back and go over an event that has already been described by one character and look at it through the eyes of a different character. The different perpectives add a lot of depth to the stories. 5. I'm pretty torn between voting for Hermione or Draco--I say Draco if we get to see the Sex Talk (haha!) AND the conversation he had with Hermione as she was leaving. But if it's only the sex talk...I vote Hermione! I MUST KNOW WHAT HE SAID. IT'S GOING TO DRIVE ME NUTS. So I guess that makes it...a half vote each? Confusing, I know, but it's your own fault. If you didn't write such a wonderful story, it would be a much easier decision:) :) Can't wait for the next update_!" - **_Marionette_** of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter eighteen**: _Airlady, xxRaInDrOpsxx, Melda-Egleriel, geauxtigers06, niic smiles, April, aquamarine310, sxc fairy, Laendra, Kourui, sasmith, Julie, charmedsisters, babygirl36554, Jester08, TheRedRoseFairy, livelife-loveHGDM, m0vi3angel, PS, Hanna, Kandygurl4, LBuccalo, DarbyThomas, spotzplaya888, grace, thisDuckIsQuackers, sleepingbeauty18, aperfectattitude, cherry666, Lily Hermione Potter, untamedspiral, askbananas, maerose899, **gem, Phoenix flame01, volleyballgirl1988, sugar bumps, Zarroc (Jenn), Mrs. Synyster Gates, Shaggy37, mskiti **_and_ especially** annieca, Marionette, Caligirl-HPLVR, Hater-of-heartless-critics**_ and _**galloping-goose.**_

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_**A Family Affair**_

_-**19**-_

Draco hadn't known what to expect when he woke up from his nightmare. After years of dealing with it all on his own, part of him was used to seeing certain images. It hurt, always it did, but he was beyond the point of retching his guts out and falling into a scared, sobbing stupor. He could vaguely hear his father puking, but the majority of his hearing was occupied by the whimpering noises Hermione was making. And in that moment, an anger against his dreams was refueled. He was viciously mad that she had to see that, that he was in such a dire position that she had to witness the agony of his minds corruption.

He wanted to help his father, but he wasn't willing to let go of Hermione. She was scared, new to this, and begging for him not to leave her. There was something deep down that didn't want to let her go anyway. She was warm against him and that calmed him down much quicker from his clenching body and tear ridden eyes. She needed him, and for some reason understanding that was overwhelmingly nice. People usually didn't need him. He pushed his way into things, did it for others without them even knowing. His vendetta was for his parents, though Sirius never told him he wanted him to do it. His facade was for his vendetta, which in turn helped Dumbledore. And returning to his father was the best way to keep the vendetta and his life going long enough to finish what he started. But Sirius never openly said he needed him there and Draco never allowed himself to believe perhaps his father was in need of him.

Hermione though, had formed some kind of connection with him that he wasn't able to label. She was fiercely determined to do all that enabled the good of the world, and while he believed that was a noble trait, he knew that sometimes, doing something horrible, would lead to good. Like destroying Lucius and Voldemort, some would call him a murderer or insane for his desire to rid the world of them. He knew she didn't entirely understand his lust for vengeance, or his burden of having everything finished and completed before he died, but the fact that she didn't try and talk him out of it said a lot. She accepted that he wouldn't rest until the sin of his mother's murder and father's incarceration was paid off with blood.

Women had never been very important in his life. Fanciful things like love and relationships held no weight in his mind. He had one thing to do in his life and he devoted himself to it wholly. So when girls started paying attention to him, he wasn't deterred in the least. For image sake, he let Pansy Parkinson hang off of him and deal out her so-called affection. He let others think she was his and he hers, when really he couldn't stand the chit. She was a nuisance; a loud, obnoxious, pug faced irritation. Other than her however, he kept himself gladly single and without interest in anyone else. He didn't believe in things like love and infatuation. He had grown up in a household of disdain and control.

He loved his parents and his godfather, but even that took time and effort. The love for his mother came naturally, but he believed that was more because he'd been seeing her since he was a young boy. His love for Sirius was always there, but he wasn't able to accept it until he was certain he could trust him. And he hadn't admitted to that until the night of Dumbledore's death. For Remus, it was much more different. Draco was willing to allow the man into his life, but he held him at an arm's length for some time. However, Remus was much easier to get along with and accept than his father. If only for the fact that he kept things lighthearted and easy going, while Sirius wanted answers and had more questions than Draco was willing to reply to.

But the love between a man and a woman had never really come up for him and he was glad not to have the distraction. That is, until Hermione came walking into his life with a no nonsense attitude as she helped him through his disastrous three days of being stuck in bed with only his nightmares to keep him occupied. The darker part of him that still lived and thought like a Malfoy wanted to tell her to get out, to leave him alone and just let him be. But his real self, that Draco Black that devised his every move in life, he rather liked her company. And before long, he wanted her around him all the time. He couldn't understand it. She had gone from a girl in the background, the only one he paid enough attention to to insult whenever she was in his presence, to the only girl he wanted around him ever.

He could do without Mrs. Weasley's idle chatter about her children and cleaning and her husband. But he found himself in desperate need of Hermione's voice as she read to him or talked to him about Quidditch and school, or anything really. He liked the way her hand ran across his face to check his temperature or move his bangs from their damp position stamped against his face. He liked the way her scent seemed to invade his senses whenever she was nearby and he had no idea why his stomach kept doing flip flops whenever she sat close to him or held his hand.

When he recuperated enough to leave his room and walk around, he was a little scared. He hadn't seen her for an entire day and she seemed to be avoiding him. Of course, he came to find out that really, she was just upset over the fact that she hadn't found a cure for him. And it was in her desperate cries and her forlorn apologies that he realized maybe she felt that connection too. He dismissed it as a strong bond of friendship back then. Told himself that they were going through something involving life and death, and so it was bound to happen that they become close and seek refuge in one another. But then things became more intimate.

Suddenly, he wanted to hold her hand whenever she was nearby, or wrap his arm around her shoulders. When she cried, he felt the need to take that pain away from her, by holding her and soothing away her fears. When she spoke, he felt a smile on his mouth, no matter what she was saying. And when she was happy, he too felt a euphoria. He couldn't explain it, there was no logic behind it. He found his body reacting to her every move, wanting her near him at all times. Which is when he decided he was just in need of human contact. He was dying after all, so perhaps he just needed reassurance that he hadn't gone yet. But that didn't explain away his worry over her. He should be scared for his own life, and yet when he found out she was going into his nightmare, which was likely a good idea given that she would take more from it intelligently than Potter or Sirius, he had developed a deep seeded fear.

And once more he tried to excuse it, telling himself that it was only because he didn't want her to be scared of him. That when she went inside his head and saw all the despicable things he saw, she would run away and he'd be left all alone again. However, waking up with her in his arms, shaking and crying, he realized it was more out of how she would be able to handle it than how she would look at him. And he was left cradling her tight in his arms, unwilling to ever let her go. Which is what led up to him losing his mind entirely and giving in to desires he'd never really had before.

There was a thought in his mind that friends probably didn't lay together like they were, but he dismissed it with the fact that she had two male friends and didn't appear to be put off by it. That stirred a fiery jealousy inside of him for a moment, but he calmed when he realized he knew, somehow, that she had never done this with Weasley or Potter. There was just something about it that told him he was the only one she had ever been so lovingly embraced by. And then she moved. He was startled almost instantly by the gyrating of her hips against his and how quickly he responded. She didn't appear to know what she was doing and while he enjoyed it, he also knew that if she didn't stop, things were going to become painfully uncomfortable. So he stilled her hips while biting his lip to stop the hiss from his mouth. She looked innocent and confused for all of two seconds and then she looked completely abashed by her actions.

It was when she smoothed his lip from the grasp of his teeth that things seemed less sexually charged and more emotionally thick. There was still the underlying chemistry of two bodies tightly wrapped around each other, but suddenly his heart was beating faster because he felt something deeper, instead of because she was stirring something hormonal. She just looked so beautiful and there were emotions running across her face that he'd never seen before. And her mouth. It was so sweet and enticing and begging his lips to take it. Before he could think about it much, he was leaning in, and his mind hardly registered the fact that she too was moving toward him. He wanted to question whether she felt the same, if she was dealing with the same worries and anxiety over feelings, but he was too intoxicated with the taste of her to do much thinking.

Her skin was soft and warm beneath his hands and mouth, and he instantly wanted to touch all of her, have all of her. She smelled like vanilla and her body seemed to mold to his in all the right places. Part of his mind told him to stop, or at least slow down, but her hands were moving and tugging and he found himself unable to pay attention to anything but her. Every noise she made penetrated his fuzzy mind and his only goal was to hear another. Her hips cradled his in such an intimate embrace that he was fairly sure they were supposed to be connected like that naturally.

Her kiss was passionate and deep, taking his breath away along with his senses. Her hair tickled his face as she explored his mouth and then brushed against his neck as she ventured down to taste his throat. He was overwhelmed and shaking on the inside. She woke something up inside him and he didn't really want to make it go back to sleep. There was such frenzied passion in every move they made that he didn't want it to stop. He wanted the world to turn off, for the war to pause completely, and for everything outside of them to just disappear. He forgot about nightmares and murder, vendetta's and broken father's. He thought only of her, and how she fit so incredibly perfect in his arms, against his stomach, beneath his hips.

The way their breath mingled, how their chests heaved and their mouths parted, it was like a magic he'd never known before. Her hands left a warm trail against his skin, wherever they touched and the feel of her bare stomach against his made his body clench in an entirely gratifying way. The rocking of their hips had a coil of urgency and ecstasy tightening and then unraveling in his stomach. There was something happening in the back of his mind though, a warning that they were going too far, that they were taking it to places neither knew much about. But they kept moving, kept touching, kept enjoying every feeling.

In all of its embarrassment, Remus was the one to break up their very affectionate embrace. Draco stilled almost instantly, especially when he felt her go rigid in his arms. She had previously been so responsive and uninhibited that seeing her just the opposite was telling. After he had rolled over, she was out of the room quicker than he could take in a full breath. The resulting conversation with Remus was one of discomfort and agitation. He wanted to bug his uncle into leaving, acting as aloof as he could, but when Remus turned their attention to the fact that Hermione could be hurt, that Draco could break her heart, he had lost all comfort in the subject.

The last thing he wanted to do was cause Hermione any damage and if his sudden and deep infatuation with her was going to do that, then he'd have to cut it off as soon as possible. It would be hard, he knew that. He didn't want to lose her entirely, but maybe Remus had the right idea. He could die and she would be left behind to remember the short time they had together. Was that right of him? It seemed selfish and wrong to leave her, but he couldn't control his lifespan and she meant more to him than a simple fling. He wanted more than he'd ever wanted with a woman before and truth be told, it sort of scared him.

She had the power to ruin him, to destroy him entirely. He had worked hard in his life never to allow anybody the ability to hurt him in anyway. But lately, living with Sirius, things had changed drastically. Suddenly it was though everybody had something on him. His uncle, his father, Hermione, and even Potter could break him in some way. He had allowed them into his mind, he had been honest and open with his godfather, and he had, without knowing it, let Hermione into his heart. He wanted to pull a curtain on all of it, to throw up a mask of indifference and go back to being a calculating, secretive, unfeeling jerk. But the majority of his defenses were in ruins and he had no idea how to put them back up. He'd never not had them before and he felt rather bare being so real.

He went to Sirius not only to get away from Remus and his uncomfortable realities, but because he knew his father was in a messed up state, much like Draco had been numerous times in the past. So he did the only thing he knew to help him, talked to him. It always helped when Hermione held his hand after his nightmares, talking about random things and just being there. He felt a more direct approach might help Sirius though, so he spoke about his mother. It was hard and messy, and not everything came out like how he wanted, but there was an honesty to everything he said that felt freeing. And when his every fear about his nightmares was laid out on the table, he was embraced by his father and it didn't feel so awkward anymore. It felt warm and loving and he really felt as though Sirius understood him now, loved him entirely. He had always felt like there was a part of him hidden from his dad, a part that he could never share, and now that he had, it only felt right that Sirius could accept him wholly.

Part of him was angry that he had cried, upset that he had let it all out so easily, but he beat that piece of him away. He wasn't willing to clam up just yet, he didn't want to become the cut off boy he once was. Besides, if he wasn't going to have Hermione, then he should at least have his father with him. As the day wore on, he found himself growing apprehensive. He had to talk to the Order and both Potter and Weasley hadn't returned from wherever it was they had gone. On top of that, Hermione had hidden herself away in the Study and he wasn't ready to lie and tell her that he only wanted friendship.

He spent the afternoon with his dad, discussing his mother and stories from Sirius' youth with his Marauder friends. Draco found it lighthearted and was content in the fact that talking about Elly didn't seem to hurt as much as it used to. His father was still visibly shaken by what he had seen and heard, but he smiled a most happy smile when he talked about her in the past. It was nice seeing his dad looking so unburdened and he rather wished he had been more open in the past. He knew though, that he never could have talked to him like he had if they hadn't gone through all that they had.

Later that night, after the meeting with the Order had finished, he waited for Hermione to gather her stuff before making his move. He fidgeted near the doorway, feeling a little shaky on the inside. He knew he didn't look outwardly uncomfortable, because he took care in schooling his features enough to make himself appear offhanded and comfortable. However, the second she was standing in front of him, his composure seemed to melt away. She was so close and he could smell that heavenly scent of vanilla. His hand reached out without his knowledge and he felt a shiver run down his spine as he ran his palm down her back.

He was happy when she moved toward him without question, her hands lifted to rest on his sides. There was an instant urge inside to just lean down and kiss her, but he told himself he was trying to do the opposite. Leaning in close to her ear, his eyes fell shut without his telling them too. "I've been trying to get up the courage to come and talk to you all afternoon, but I'll admit to being a bit of a coward for the moment," he told her quietly, and he felt her shiver, but she covered it instantly with a soft chuckle. "Earlier, in my bedroom, I think... I think we were both really caught up and I..." He really hated himself, he decided. In fact, he was fairly sure he was barely keeping his voice steady as he lied. His other hand lifted, wanting to touch her hair, but instead resting on her shoulder softly. "I think we're better as friends, because you... You mean a lot to me, Hermione. And what we did, I don't... I don't want it to ruin that. You're basically the best friend I have and I don't want to lose you. All right?" he asked, practically breathing those last few words because his voice was beginning to break.

She nodded and he forced himself to only kiss her temple before she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him with an underlying intimacy. His arms came around her instantly and he tried to make his face less hurt but it felt as though he were grimacing. He rested his chin on top of her head, inhaling lightly the scent of her hair. He didn't want to let her go and he didn't want to walk away from something he'd never had and suddenly very much wanted. She said something against his chest and he almost hadn't heard her. "You'll never lose me," were her exact words, and they sounded as though she was near tears. So he nodded, his fingers falling down the curls of her hair and resting against her back. She told him she had to go finish researching some things and he was forced to let her go.

He watched her leave, feeling the slouch of his shoulders and the defeat in his stance, before leaning back against the doorway and telling himself to get a hold of his emotions. He was overwhelmed with what he had always so carefully avoided. He felt eyes on him and turned to see who it was, but found Remus and Tonks in conversation while McGonagall kept trying to pull information out of Sirius. Shaking his head, he fled upstairs to his bedroom and paced the floor, while telling himself he did the right thing. After taking the potion the Healer left for him, he crawled into bed and threw his arms over his eyes. It was when he could smell the scent of her on his sheets, that he let himself break down.

Sitting up in his dark bedroom, with his knees up to his chin, he shook his head with aggravation. He really let himself down this time, he decided. After all those years of telling himself he was in control, he lost it all over a girl. Not just any girl, he knew, but one who actually got him. She was strong and smart and more beautiful than she knew. And as much as he hated to admit it, he had fallen fast and hard for his brunette confidant. Tears pricked at his eyes but he forced them down, feeling as though he had cried enough in these last few months to last him a lifetime. Which only made it worse. Not only had he finally found a family with his father and his uncle, but he'd fallen in love with the perfect girl, gotten the agreement of some of the Order to help him destroy Voldemort, and come to the conclusion that he could die any day. Letting out a self deprecating laugh, he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Pitiful really, he had gained and lost a life all in a very short span of time.

The next morning seemed to bustle with an air of secret importance around Sirius and Remus. Whenever Draco spotted them, they seemed in deep conversation and if he wasn't mistaken, his father was nearly blushing. Shaking his head at the incredulity of that possibility, he continued roaming the house in boredom. Weasley and Potter were conspiring again, locked up in one of the bedrooms, devising some sort of plan about something. Hermione was in the Study earlier, and he had even managed to go in to see her a few times to talk for a little while. It wasn't awkward like he had thought, but the want to kiss her was overwhelming and he eventually had to leave each time. During his third or fourth visit, she informed him that she was going to go over to The Burrow for a little while and visit with Ginny. She kissed his cheek before she left and he ended up laying on his back in the Study, his eyes shut tight and a frustrated frown on his face.

It was just before lunch when Sirius had called all three boys into the dining room, stating that he had something very important to speak to them about. Draco glanced wearily at the two Gryffindor's beside him, both of whom were looking around confused. Weasley seemed to be eyeing the kitchen, but when wasn't he hungry? Potter sort of looked as if he was waiting to be chastised for something. When had Boy Wonder screwed up? Draco decided Harry was likely worried they had found out about his plan. He was curious still as to what they were doing, but he figured it would come out one way or another, and for some reason felt as though it was helping him inadvertently, so he didn't interrupt.

Remus stood near the door, his arms crossed and a peculiar, knowing smirk on his face. He winked at Draco, telling him that he was in for a real show. Perhaps Draco wasn't, but Remus certainly was. It was beyond disheartening. If his Marauder of an uncle was going to find this amusing and was basically guarding the door, whatever was coming, was not going to be pleasant. He squirmed in his chair, wondering if he could fake a headache or something and leave. There was a foreboding about whatever was about to happen, even if it wasn't life threatening.

His father sat in the chair on the other side of the table, looking like a teacher about to tell his students that they were going to be serving detention for their misbehavior. However, last time he checked, anything he had done had not been picked up by his father. And really, anything he had done had not included the two lions on his left. A lioness, yes, but nobody but Remus knew of that little indiscretion. That was purely between the two of them and he was almost completely sure that the snog session had not been broadcasted to the rest of the house. Though his uncle might have felt the need to tell Sirius about it, and that thought made his stomach drop out. He had slipped, let his inner Draco come out and in one brave and thoughtless moment, he had let himself be a seventeen year old boy entangled with a pretty girl. In any case, this likely had nothing to do with that, he hoped.

Clearing his throat, Sirius looked each of them over, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. "Well," he began, nervously. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I've asked to speak with you," he said, clearing his throat again, his eyes looking over at Remus. "Y'see, you're getting older now, and while Ron has likely already had this conversation, I figured it couldn't hurt to hear it again. What with you two," he said, motioning to him and Potter, "being in my care now, I think it's best if we take all the necessary precautions..." He looked down, clasping his hands together and shifting in his seat.

Draco narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms and looking over at his uncle for some kind of explanation. He did not like where this conversation seemed to be leading, it didn't sound like anything he was interested in hearing. However, his only escape was blocked and his father, though nervous, looked as if he wasn't going to back down on discussing whatever it was on his mind with them.

"At your age," Sirius started, swallowing, "it is normal for you to have... urges..."

"Oh Merlin," Draco said, his eyes widening as he realized what was happening. He was out of his chair in a shot, nearly running to the door, when his uncle wrapped an arm around his middle, holding him back, a smirk on his immensely amused face. "Lemme go," he told him, struggling to get to the door. "I really, really don't need this conversation," he assured, nodding and reaching without avail to the door.

Remus practically picked him up off the floor, but more of dragged him back to his seat, pushing him down into it. "Uh uh uh," he chastised, shaking his head. "Listen carefully, Draco, your father has some wisdom to pass on," he told him, that infuriating grin on his face.

Draco felt his face pale and his pulse quicken. He felt caged and locked in, he seriously did not want to hear this conversation. He glanced at Potter and Weasley to see that they were both pale and terribly uncomfortable. The way their legs were jumping, he was sure they too had thought about running. He would give it another go and bolt but Remus was looking mighty strong in the door now; he was likely laughing like a hyena on the inside. He focused his mind, trying to apparate, but found a stiff barrier. "You put the apparating wards up!" he exclaimed.

"You're crafty, we had to be careful," Remus replied, a chortle closely following his words.

"This won't take long," Sirius told them, looking just as out of place and awkward. "If you'd all simply listen and let me speak, I'm sure we'll all walk out of here a lot less heavy with questions. Mooney has agreed to answer questions too. This will be informative, I wager. I don't want to send you out telling you not to do it because you'll all perish in a hellish doom... like my mother told me," he muttered, shaking his head. "Not that I think you lot should be running 'round with your pants 'round your ankles and your hands--"

"Please stop," Draco asked, covering his face with his hands. "Dear Merlin, stop!"

Clearing his throat, Sirius sat forward. "I think we should start with the obvious..." Coughing, he glanced at Remus for help on this one.

"All right you lot, let's have a show of hands as to which of you has done the big deed," he told them, looking far too enthusiastic.

Draco's hands dropped and a glare surfaced. "Is this because of the other day?" he asked, abruptly, staring at Remus. "We didn't do anything," he told him, seriously. "And we wouldn't have done anything had you not come in... probably," he muttered.

"What happened?" Potter asked, looking over at him with a furrowed brow.

"If this whole conversation is _his_ fault, why are the rest of us sufferin'?" Weasley asked, miserably.

"And I know enough about sex, I don't need a refresher course," Draco continued, ignoring the people beside him and looking back and forth from his uncle to his father. "Not that she and I are planning on doing anything," he said, swiping his hand through the air. "That was probably just a one time thing. We were caught up in the moment, is all."

"Son, that is the worst kind of reassurance," Sirius told him, shaking his head morosely.

"Well what did you want me to say?" he asked annoyed, crossing his arms in defense. "Teach me dad, I know nothing about carnal influence? I'm seventeen, not an eleven year old lump," he reminded, frowning.

"And what if the moment had lasted longer," Remus asked, stepping forward, looking a little less amused. "Would you have known what to do?"

Draco laughed, a smirk lighting his features. "Yeah, I think I have a pretty could handle on what to do." He hoped they had taken his arrogance at face value and not looked further, because he knew deep down that had they not been interrupted, things most likely would have gone a lot further. Did he want that? Well, it wasn't as if he didn't want it. It would've made things a whole lot messier though and he didn't really want to admit that to anyone but himself. It was better if they just thought he was cocky seventeen year old boy. Instead of a pathetic, love sick boy who let his emotions consume him for one very wonderful moment.

Sirius rolled his eyes shaking his head. "He means charms to stop pregnancy and the like," he explained, running a weary hand over his face.

"Oh," Draco replied, shrugging. If they were going to have this conversation, then he was going to be aloof and indifferent. If anything, he would make _them_ uncomfortable, just to avoid the resulting discomfort for himself. And he did know about sex, so it wasn't as if he was mindless about it. Sure, he never had any reason to go looking for it, his mind was set on vengeance not getting a quick shag, but he did know about it. "Yeah, I know a couple," he assured.

"You do?" Remus asked, suspiciously.

Leaning forward, Draco stared up at him with thinned eyes. "Would you like a list of women I've used them on?" he asked, smirking. Perhaps that was a little mean, but then, his uncle brought this on himself. They didn't need to have this conversation, and Remus was obviously hoping to get a good laugh at his nephew's expense, therefore, Draco was just returning the favor.

"Merlin Draco, tell me that was a joke or I don't think my heart will take it!" Sirius exclaimed, leaning back in his chair with a look of shock.

Draco rolled his eyes, snorting at the melodrama. He turned over to Potter and Weasley, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How 'bout you two? Know any charms to keep your scours of women from popping out a bunch of red haired, green eyed ghouls?" he asked, his brow cocked. His tone was light and airy, so not to make them think he was really being rude. For a moment, he almost told himself not to present any kind of nicety to Weasley, but then thought better of it. "_Not your enemy, Draco, try to remember that_," he thought. "_No more mask_!" Technically, toying with them like this wasn't really putting up a facade, was it? It was just a bit of fun, and besides, when Potter told him to drop the act, he meant the mean, Malfoy mask, not the cheeky, sarcastic real Draco.

Weasley swallowed, a half-hearted scowl present on his face. "I-- I know of one," he mentioned, nodding. He ventured a look at Remus and Sirius but soon found his eyes glued to the table out of fear of what they might say. "Y--You're not gonna tell m--mum are you?" he asked, worriedly.

"No Ron," Sirius said with a sigh. "This conversation stays here between all of us." Draco nearly laughed when Sirius managed to look at Harry, hesitant and hopeful. "And you Harry, d'you know of any?"

Potter seemed to be looking at everyone, scared how to answer and not entirely sure what to say. He shifted in his seat, his eyes falling to stare at the table top and his hands fiddling with each other. "No," he said, stiffly. "Wasn't ever really a concern."

Sirius sighed with relief, his shoulders slumping happily with the information. "Too busy, I guess," he said quietly, and Draco was sure that it was probably the first time Sirius was almost grateful for Voldemort. It managed to take so much of Potter's attention that he had no time to think about shagging a girl without thinking. He nearly laughed out loud.

"All right," Remus said. "So that means Harry obviously hasn't done anything, but he still needs to know the basics," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And that leaves you two. Have you or haven't you?" he wondered, his eyes firmly on Draco.

"Does it really matter?" Draco challenged, his face set and his eyes moving back and forth between them. "If Potter has to listen even though he hasn't, then we'll have to whether or not we have. So why not let us keep whether or not we've had sex to ourselves and get on with this conversation so we can all run off and pretend it never happened?" he told them. He really was getting good at twisting words on people, this was rather fun.

"Well that really isn't fair to Harry is it?" Remus asked, his smirk present again. "He had to admit whether or not he has, but you didn't."

Draco's eyes thinned, deciding that his uncle could not get away with thinking he was quicker than him. It was nearly a test of wits. He smirked, "He didn't really admit that he hadn't. He just said he never really thought of contraception charms. Maybe the girl did it for him or they both forgot, y'don't really know," Draco replied, his brow lifting with conviction.

All of Sirius' previous relief drained away and he turned worried eyes on his godson again. Draco was laughing mercilessly in his head but he said nothing. He had been uncomfortable and more than a little worried when this conversation started, but now he was using it to embarrass everyone but himself. Perhaps he was enjoying this too much. It was slightly mean, but amusing all the same. Besides, it was better than cowering until it was all over and wishing he could magic his ears away. Now he knew why Remus had collected their wands before they walked in; smart, smug, prat.

"All right," Sirius said, firmly, staring his son head on. "Let's try a different approach then. Have any of you had, or are in, or are considering being in, a serious relationship?" he asked them, his eyes sweeping over all three of them.

Weasley shrugged, nodding stiffly, almost unsure. "I'm dating Luna," he replied, a little uncomfortable. "I don't know if we're really serious though... I mean, it's only been a couple weeks. I really like her though," he rambled, nervously.

Sirius nodded, glancing at Remus with an expression Draco couldn't identify. Then he turned to Harry, that look of hope on his face. What did he expect? That his little prince would stay virginal forever? That he'd never settle down with a girl and be happy? That he'd hang 'round Grimmauld Place, living it up with Sirius the rest of his life? That was rather sad. Then again, his father didn't have anyone did he? Would he be alone forever? Would he never move on from Elly? Did Draco even approve of the idea of Sirius moving on? He pondered that for a moment, pulled out of his thoughts by Potter's gruff reply.

"I don't think this is really the best time for me to be thinking of a serious relationship," he told them, thickly. "But after... I... I want to..." he said with a nod, looking rather apprehensive, as if he didn't want to put too much stock in the future.

Sirius and Remus stared at Potter a long moment, both looking understanding but upset. They knew what he meant, it was starkly obvious. _If_ he was even alive to see the day where he could have a relationship, was what he was telling them. It was a sad decision for Potter, one that Draco fully understood. And because of that, a bit of his anger was replenished, not towards Harry but himself and his screwed up mind. It was because of his nightmares that he couldn't be with Hermione. That and the fact that she really could deter her from his mission against Voldemort. Not that she would ask, but if she did, what would he say? He wondered... Then Sirius and Remus turned their suspicious looks on Draco again. He thoroughly wished he had put a locking charm on the door that afternoon. Even if nothing was going to happen, most would've taken something just from them laying together. It would've saved a lot of trouble if he had.

Sighing, he lifted his brow. "I know what you want me to say," he told them, shaking his head. "It's bloody obvious that you want us to get together," he told them, glaring at his father's rather blunt grin. He didn't want to tell them any of his feelings. Those weren't the issue there. He had a mission and getting involved with Hermione would certainly complicate things, for the both of them. He had been acting without thinking about the future then. He made a mistake; an unbelievably nice mistake, but still. Did he want to take it back? Not really. But he couldn't do it again. He told himself this firmly. It was best if they didn't. The end was still turning in favor of his death and he didn't want to leave her with more anguish than she would already have.

"Well?" Remus asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He found himself frowning, a crease between his brows. He looked up from where he had been basically glaring and found his father staring at him questioningly. "Look, what we did was fun, yeah, but it's not going to turn into anything. Don't get your hopes up," he told them, shaking his head. Maybe if he sounded cold and uncaring they would just stop this inane conversation. He felt a stab of conviction for talking about her as if she didn't matter and wanted to take it back, but didn't.

"This is all the more reason to be having this conversation," Sirius told him, nodding, unable to hide his disappointment. "Sex is supposed to be shared between two people who really... _care_ about each other," he told them, his eyes looking away. "In fact, you should all wait for marriage. And if you haven't already, I think you should start now," he said, quickly.

Draco snorted, unable to stop himself. "So you never... Before--" He stopped, closing off immediately and turned away, his face losing all emotion. He realized it would likely involve his mother and that both scared and disgusted him. He kind of felt like telling his dad that he better not have touched her before marriage and suddenly realized that was what his father was trying to get across. But he felt that way because Elly was his mum, if she wasn't, he likely wouldn't care. But then, he thought the idea of his father being with anyone but his mother, even in just a dating sense, was completely wrong. He wished he could take back the question the second it came out of his mouth, feeling his stomach turn at the consequences.

Sirius wasn't kind enough to let it go though, he turned back. "There was never anyone but your mother for me," he told him, staring at his turned face.

Draco decided not to point out that that didn't mean they hadn't slept together before the wedding. He didn't want to know. He also didn't want to think about love and marriage and possible futures. Because really, he didn't have that, so what was the point in this conversation anyway? At least for him. He frowned, his eyes turning off as he decided not to point that out. Even if it might get him out of the resulting conversation, if was just too painful and real for him to discuss anymore. Especially with his new understanding that he just plain couldn't have Hermione.

Sirius let it go, clearing his throat. "All right, moving on," he said, looking back at Potter and Weasley. "I'm going to assume that you've all at least snogged a girl..." He paused, glancing at Remus. "Or a boy. It's... er... all right if you're---"

"What?" all three broke out, looking shocked and slightly offended. "We're not... I'm not..." they seemed to say together.

"Okay, okay, I was just putting it out there," Sirius said, holding his hands up in defense. "I didn't mean to offend you, I just didn't want to come off sounding... completely prejudiced if any of you... you know... felt that way about... boys instead of girls," he managed, looking unnaturally out of sorts.

Remus was nearly bursting with laughter, hardly restraining the chortles and snorts.

Sirius nodded, looking around at them again. "Anyway, I'm sure you all know that snogging and heavy petting, they're all really a lead up to... well, to sex," he told them, sighing. "Y'see, foreplay is--"

"Dad!" Draco interrupted, his hand raising to his temple. "Can we just stick to the basics? And then, if we have questions, y'could answer them," he suggested, hoping to avoid any scarring memories or ideas that may come out of his father's mouth.

Sirius looked a little startled at being called dad since Draco usually used his first name if he was annoyed with him, but he recovered quickly. Though lately, he found it slipping off his tongue as though he'd always called Sirius the familiar title. "All right," his father said, nodding shortly, "if that's what you'd all prefer," he offered, looking around at them. Remus looked mildly affronted, having wanted to see the boys squirm and moan their discomfort.

"Look," Sirius started again, sighing, "sex is known for being a big issue, especially with boys. You're pressured to do it, expected even, but not all of you are ready," he said, pointedly staring at each of them. "It's an experience that should only be shared with someone who means a lot to you, who you're really comfortable with, and overall, at least I believe, someone you plan on investing a lot of _time_ with."

The pointed emphasis on time bothered Draco, and he found his agitation increase. "But sex doesn't run on love, it runs on lust," Draco countered, shaking his head. "It's all about pheromones, bodily reactions, carnal influence, and whether or not two people are attracted to each other. It doesn't always have to do with love, and while it sounds like a better idea to do it with someone you care about that much, we all know that it's not something all of us will invest in."

"Every time you speak, I think my arm numbs a little more," Sirius said, his eyes turning heavenward.

"You're not having a heart attack," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "Look, if you guys want to get all preachy on us, fine. But don't pretend that sex doesn't happen outside of love and marriage. Just the other day, Tonks was walking out of Remus' bedroom half dressed. Now, I can't say whether they love each other, but I can tell you I certainly wasn't invited to a wedding," he told them, conviction in his voice.

Sirius turned annoyed eyes on Remus, as if blaming him for Draco's thoughts on sex.

Remus, for his part, looked baffled and a little shocked to know that he was being put on the spot. He obviously hadn't expected his relations to be called in on the conversation. He mumbled a bit, shrugging a few times and avoided Sirius' gaze for the most part, glaring daggers at Draco.

"If I'm going down," Draco replied to his uncle's angry looks, "I'll take you with me," he told him, nodding.

"Well," Remus said, clearing his throat and looking around at the three young men. "Tonks and I are different... I mean... we're adults."

"So it's all right for adults to have sex even if they're not in love or married?" Draco asked, cocking his brow. "Because technically, at seventeen, we're adults!" he reminded, snarkily.

Sighing, Sirius shook his head, glaring at his friend once again.

"Well, y'see... that is..." Remus sighed, running his hand over his face.

Sirius turned to Weasley and Potter. "What are your thoughts on sex?" he asked them, pointedly, apparently giving up on beating around the bush.

Weasley stuttered for awhile, groping around for an answer but coming up empty handed. "I-- I dunno," he replied, shaking his furiously blushing head.

Harry glanced at his friend and then his godfather, seeming to stumble over his thoughts. "I honestly have no idea what to think. Y'both make valid points," he offered, hoping they would leave him alone, no doubt.

"And you really think that sex doesn't need emotion, Draco?" Sirius asked him, frowning. "So you have no problem with having sex even if you don't care for the girl?"

He sighed, staring at his dad. "I never said _I_ would have sex without emotion, I'm just saying that not everyone does. Sex is a broad subject. If you're going to be teaching these two," he said, nodding his head to them, "then at least give them the entire idea and let them make up their minds." Standing up, he placed his hands on the table. "Look, sex is great, everybody knows it. Whether you're with the love of your life or a girl you met who happens to be fantastically flirtatious and spectacularly beautiful. Sex is sex. _You_ choose whether you think it should be between you and a person you love, or just to get your jollies off."

Turning to Weasley and Potter, he lifted his brow. "With either decision, you have to remember certain things. One is protection, and I'm not talking about charms and hexes. So, here are three contraception charms, kiddies, get out your quills if you need to write 'em down," he mocked, listing the three off without a moments hesitation. "Unless you want a bunch of kids running 'round your feet calling you daddy at seventeen, learn them," he said firmly.

"Other than that, you might want to remember that women are emotional beings to begin with. They're fragile, sensitive, and unbelievably hung up on how you're feeling. Most of them will read into sex, so if you're not an emotional, string attached kind of guy, you're going to want to walk in making it known that your not looking for a wife," he told them, frowning.

"You're mildly cynical on the subject," Remus said, staring down at him. "Have a bad experience?" he wondered.

"This is just your way to find out if I've had sex or not," he replied, defensively. "Why does it really matter? It's pretty obvious that I don't have any kids runnin' around," he reminded, crossing his arms. He was frustrated and angry, and most of the things he'd said came from Lucius when he found out that Draco was "dating" Pansy. He said he didn't want Draco making him look like a fool, so he'd better learn how to be careful because he wasn't going to soil the _Malfoy _name. Cynical, not really. Annoyed that they were all talking as though he had a lifetime when he didn't, definitely. He wanted the conversation over and done with so he could leave and pretend that he wasn't overwhelmingly angry with the fact that they just kept reminding him that what happened with Hermione would not only never happen again, but he wouldn't have a chance to have her in the far future, because he had _no_ future.

"We just want you to be careful," Sirius told him, somewhat quiet. "After what Remus saw, we were a little hesitant about what you knew and whether you'd be safe. It's not just about you, Draco, it's about her."

Sighing, Draco sat down in his chair, leaning back and rolling his eyes. "We weren't going to do anything. We were upset, we got caught up in the moment and we ended up..." Trailing off, he glanced at Remus and then the two boys beside him who looked as if they were wondering who it could be. "I talked to her, it's over, all right?" His mouth kept saying so, but the rest of him didn't want to believe it.

"All right, so we know the basics, can we go now?" Weasley asked hopefully.

Sirius looked over at him, shaking his head. "No, I think we need to discuss this a little more," he said, firmly.

The door to the dining room swung open and Hermione walked in, looking around confused. "What are you all doing in here?" she wondered, mildly amused, somewhat annoyed that she wasn't invited. Draco felt his eyes widen and his stomach drop out, he just knew this was going to go bad quickly.

"Believe me, Mione, you do not want to be here," Weasley grumbled. "Because Malfoy was caught snogging some bird, we're all in here getting The Talk," he said, scathingly. Draco went completely still, his gaze locked with hers. "Must admit, I feel sorry for her though," he said, sighing. "If what he just said is at all how he feels, then that girl's just been basically used," he muttered. "He says it'll never happen again but here we are still..."

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice quiet as she stared at him, her eyes slowly lowering. Not a moment later, she left, the door swung back and forth with her disappearance. He couldn't pretend the look of hurt on her face was his imagination. She looked entirely torn and he felt lower than dirt. None of what he said constituted as his views. He was upset, angry, and beyond agitated. Hermione meant more to him than he was willing to tell either his uncle or his father, but he needed the conversation over with. They kept talking about everything as though Draco had all the time in the world to figure it out and to do the right thing, but he didn't.

He figured the best way to end the conversation was get everything he knew out and while he didn't agree with it, the controversy, he hoped, would end his father's need to keep talking about it all. He wanted to leave and hadn't thought for one second that any of the information would get back to Hermione. He hadn't meant her when he talked about women and sex, he wanted her in an entirely different way. Excluding sex and hormonal influence, he cared about her.

Hermione had looked shattered by what she had just heard and he couldn't imagine what she thought of him now. He worried that she thought he was sitting around boasting about his moment with her, when really he had just been trying to get out of giving any particulars about what they were. What happened between them was strictly between them, and he hadn't wanted to talk about it with anyone. But then this whole conversation was started and he found them staring at him, needing to know if he'd had sex and he was not about to tell them that kind of information. They were just digging, trying to find out more about what was going on with him and Hermione.

He was stuck. Should he go after her or stay? If he left, it would be obvious that not only did he care, but that she was the girl he appeared to nearly have slept with. If he didn't, he'd be proving to her, his father, his uncle, and himself that she just got in the way. That he needed to focus on more important things, like bringing down Voldemort. So it was a choice, and a big one. Go after Hermione and save her feelings, explain himself and hope that she understands, or pretend he doesn't feel at all bad for her looking as if she wanted to cry. This was huge.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, getting up out of his seat and leaving the room to chase after her. He just knew his dad and uncle were grinning like deranged idiots. "Hermione," he called, his eyes darting around to find her. He checked the den and then the study but found them empty. Running upstairs, he went to her bedroom, knocking rather hesitantly on her door. He heard a muffled, 'Go away,' but ignored it. He tried the handle and wasn't surprised to find it locked. He easily _Alohomora_'d it though and walked inside. Locking it behind him, he stood awkwardly in her room.

She was laying on her back across her bed, her head covered with a pillow and her hands thrown across it, holding it down. He wondered if she could breathe, but instead of asking, he plucked it off her head. He nearly met resistance, but managed to get it away before she could really pull it back. Her eyes were teary and her face was mildly red, from crying or embarrassment, he didn't know. Despite her apparent sadness, she looked quite angry. She sat up quickly, wiping at her face and moving until she was leaning back against the headboard of her bed.

Licking his lips, he looked around for a moment, fishing for a way to explain himself. "Y'remember when Remus walked in on us?" he asked, glancing at her to find her mouth was firmly shut. "Well he told Sirius and my dad decided that we all needed to have a nice friendly sex talk," he said quickly, clearing his throat and looking away. "I never said anything that happened between us." Sighing, he looked away. "I did tell them not to expect a relationship, but honestly, Hermione, you have to know that I hadn't expected us to do that. They think we're going to become this incredible couple or something, and my father likely has all these ideas about me dating an incredibly smart witch such as yourself. But really," he said, shaking his head, "you and I, we don't fit," he lied. "I have enough on my plate already, and I'm sure you do too." Turning, he stared at her, trying to come off aloof about it, but hoping that she wasn't going to backhand him. "We got caught up, we did some things we probably wouldn't have, but we're not meant to--"

He was cut off my her lips pressing into his, and all thoughts of playing it off as nothing melted away. Her hands slipped into his hair and behind his neck, pulling him close. Her warm tongue delved into his mouth, dueling with his and exploring. She nibbled at his lips, running her tongue over the tiny bites, soothing and hot. It was nothing like how it had been, this was raw, primal, and beyond passion, while yesterday had been languid, intoxicating, and almost gentle.

She tasted like peppermint and he could fall to pieces for her flavor. His hands moved of their own accord, caressing her cheek, holding her body against his. It was as if he were on autopilot, the second she touched him he knew exactly what to do. How to kiss her, where to hold her, what to do to make her melt. But she was in control, she was taking the upper hand with him. He couldn't help but admit he really liked it. There was a voice in his head, almost completely drowned out by the rush in his ears, telling him that he reveled in control, he never gave his own up to anyone. And yet here he was, relaxed against her and relishing in whatever she wanted to do.

She pushed him back on the bed, her legs moving to straddle his waist. Her fingers trailed down the sides of his face, nails grazing his neck and running over his shoulders, slipping beneath his white shirt. Her smooth mouth was still pressed against his, devouring him wholly and leaving him with hardly any thought process. She finally broke away from his lips, panting and eyes closed. She moved her mouth over his cheek, trailing from the corner of his mouth to his ear and then directing down until she found his neck. Her luscious mouth lavished the skin with smoldering kisses, nips of her teeth, drags of her tongue. Her could hardly move, he was so entranced by her.

Her fingers dug into his skin, nails lightly biting at him. Her body pressed into his at all the right places, fitting like a puzzle piece against him. He found his hands moving on their own, one slipping into her wild mass of hair, the other sliding slowly up her back. He was fairly certain that in that moment he was willing to do absolutely anything for her, without even thinking. Deciding he didn't want to let her have all the fun, he flipped her over so she was beneath him, and pressed his lips to hers with a heated passion. She immediately responded to his kiss, no doubts or uncertainties. One of her hands slipped around his side and rested against his lower back, her fingers pressing down into him, holding him close.

Breaking away from her mouth, he kissed down her cheek and over her neck, lavishing the space between her clavicles and then moving up to nip lightly at her skin. She was warm and pliable beneath him, perfect and curved in just the right spots. His hand met her hip, cupping it and then sliding up her side, beneath her thin gold top. Her leg bent, thigh pressing against his side while her foot rubbed from the back of his thigh down to his mid-calf. After a sex talk that had him embarrassed, he realized they were getting very much to the point that his father had just been warning about.

She turned them back over and had managed to separate his shirt at some point, he hadn't really been paying attention to her nimble hands. He had moved her shirt up some though, leaving her midriff showing, which now pressed against his heated abdomen. Her hand ran through his hair, ruffling it slightly, and grazing her nails from his neck up. The sensation had his breathing pick up some. His mind was yelling at him that he needed to slow down, that he had just been telling her they weren't going to work out. But his body wasn't listening and it continued on its happy trail around Hermione's.

Their mouths found each other again, and he was once again reminded of how utterly incredible it was kissing her. Her hair brushed against his chest, tickling him slightly, which added to the smile that was already opening up his face as he devoured her warm lips against his, sucking and nibbling at the pleasure they provided. He was brought back to reality however when her hand ventured down to the button of his trousers, which had his eyes opening quickly and his body stiffening. "Nuh, what are you doing?" he asked, panting as he reached out to stop her.

Her mouth was still agonizingly close to his and he dearly just wanted to continue. "D'you want me?" she asked, sounding nothing like the Hermione he knew.

He closed his eyes tight, wanting to shake his head and tell her, "_No, no this isn't right. Friends! Yes, shake my hand, we'll be friends_!" But his heart was saying the complete opposite and his mouth defied his brain and followed its much more emotional successor. "Yes, yes, I want you," he replied, nodding. "But we can't... I don't think we should... I mean, don't you think it's a little quick for us to be..." He felt like a fumbling boy who didn't know what a bra was, let alone how to have sex with a girl who spoke volumes to him.

Her face darkened then and she glared at him. "What does that matter, right? We're just a one time thing. Got caught up again. This shouldn't matter," she reminded, her voice bitter.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, staring up at her with mildly annoyed eyes. "You're trying to prove that I really didn't care at all?"

"No, I know you don't care. You said it yourself. Not just to me, but to every male in the house!" she shrieked. She sat up, still straddling his waist, which he didn't believe was a good idea but thought better of telling her to get off.

Running his hands over his face, he pressed his palms into his eyes, shaking his head. Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around her so she wouldn't fall. She looked startled, mildly worried that she was going to be thrown back, but instead of jumping out of his lap, she stabilized herself by putting her hands on his shoulders. "How much d'you care about me?" he asked her, staring searchingly in her eyes.

"I... I care about you, a- a lot," she replied, nodding. She looked startled and uncertain as to how to respond. She blinked furiously for a moment and he wondered if she was getting teary eyed or just flustered. "You mean a great deal to me, Draco. Everything that has happened, it just... I don't know how to explain it really. I want to say it's all friendship, but I can't, and..." She shook her head, her chin quivering for a moment. "And then what Ron said, it just sort of... I was angry and confused, because I thought... After all that's happened between us I thought we were at least friends," she said, quietly.

"We are friends," he replied, quickly. "Look, y'know me a lot better than most people. For some reason I tend to be..." Scratching the back of his head, he looked around as if the words would be laying around the room for him to read. "I talk to you easier than I do others," he said, shrugging. "I've told you things that I've never told anyone. And I like you, more than any girl I've ever known. You're funny and you're smart. You're completely everything I would want in a... a girlfriend," he said, glancing down uncertainly. "But we both know that this isn't going to last. I don't just mean us as a couple. I mean me. I'm not going to be around forever. Nobody is, but me less than others. And even if we did, I can't promise that I'd be able to pay as much attention to you as you deserve. I've still got to work with the Order on finding Voldemort and the Horcruxes," he reminded, shaking his head. "You'd be better off with someone who didn't have vendetta's and killer nightmares," he said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

She stared at him awhile, tears filling her eyes. "What if I don't want to? What if I... What if I can handle not being the center of attention?" she asked, shaking her head and looking both angry and sad.

"And what about after?" Draco asked, staring into her shining brown eyes. "What about when these nightmares finish me off? Or when I'm not just falling apart and stuck in a bed, but completely immobile and unable to do anything on my own? Then what? You'll just sit by me, holding my limp hand until I'm finally gone?" he asked, his voice raising a little. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back, inhaling a deep breath, trying to get his irritation at his future under control. "I'm sorry. But d'you really want that for yourself? Because I don't want that for you."

He didn't want it, but he knew she'd do it. Even if they weren't together, he knew she was going to be right there beside him, holding his hand until he took his last breath. And that understanding was both comforting and terrifying. Because when he finally died, he wanted her to be one of that last people in his presence, and all the same, he didn't want to go knowing that she would have to see him that way.

Shaking her head, she worried her lip, stifling a sob, until she finally just leaned in and hugged him tightly. She buried her face in his neck, her arms tight around his shoulders. Her back shook, so he ran his hands up and down it in a calming motion. Closing his eyes, he pressed his face down against her shoulder and rocked them slightly, back and forth, his own eyes burning. "I'm not going to lose you," she whispered, her voice shaking but full of hard determination. "Whatever this is, you can stop it and you can tell me that you're not willing for it to go farther, and I'll respect that. But don't think for one second, Draco, that I'm going to let you haul off and die on me," she told him.

He hugged her tighter, wishing he could rewind and just have all of her. That he could forget about being responsible and keeping her safe from turmoil. That he could kiss her again and love her until his dying day. But Draco was a person of control and now that she had given it back to him, he knew he couldn't do anything but accept his way in the world. He was a vindicator, for his parents, for himself. And when it was all over, he would leave her with the same words he whispered against her as she said finished with her stunningly heartfelt vow. "I love you, but I'm letting you go."

* * *

**A/N** _And, obviously, the voting came in with **32** for Draco, **7** for Harry, **6** for Ron, **3** for Hermione and Sirius, and **2** for Lucius. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I realize it was really quite long, but... it had to be done! I'll update again soon! __Next Vote:_

_**Hermione  
Ron  
Harry  
Remus  
Sirius  
Lucius  
Other**?_

_Thanks for reading, please leave a review!_

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


	20. 20

**Review offering insight to the story**:

"_Thank you for this amazing and beautiful chapter! It's so sad for them but at the same time so fitting with the situation. The Talk was great and I really liked Remus' show of deviousness and Draco's reaction was so in accordance to his character that I was absolutely delighted ! I believe that he did great in going after Hermione and that's what I guess everyone was secretly hoping for. Now I can't wait to see what reactions will have Harry and Ron after realizing that the girl involved with Draco is/was in fact Hermione. Will they shift in overbearing/overprotective brothers mode or will they simply accept it and even encourage this relationship (I really doubt it) ? But please as always make your amazing writting skills come into action and update soon. Thank you and just to let you know, I've come to like your stories better than JKR's._" - _**Laendra**_ of FanFiction net.

**Thank you to the following reviewers of chapter nineteen**: _geuxtigers06, cherry666, niic smiles, babygirl36554, aquamarine310, Shaggy37, gem, maerose899, Laendra, charmedsisters, Airlady, Josephine Taylor, shortvella, livelife-loveHGDM, TheSlayerettes, Hotkat144, darbythomas, m0vi3angel, bethygirl94, Phoenix flame01, hanna, PS, Jester08, Natalia, Carla Coleman, Mari, Sirius-black-kay, alka-lev, Sam's Firefly, Yacada-Uchiha, bananas, untamedspiral, sasmith, emptylil'firefly, mimbulus-mimbletonia, starzstruck-1, cheryl, Tenshisangel, Keiko, volleyballgirl1988, BananaCaramelFrappucino, dracosluvr18, Lisa, Mari, Skyack5, charlie, ASHxoBASH, Kriti, **crissybabe101, fairychik16, Hater-of-heartless-critics, katrina4p, sugarbumps, Marionette, Zarroc, Mrs.Synyster Gates, lovedrher **(Liz)**, mskiti **(Tabi)_ and _especially_ _**Princess de la Plume** (nice to see you back, lol.)**, ReviewsGalore, annieca, kriti **_and** _galloping-goose_ **(Zeus).

**_A Family Affair_**  
-**20**-

Harry sat in an overwhelmingly uncomfortable silence, his eyes wide and his mouth left hanging down a small bit. After possibly the most awkward conversation he'd ever been dragged into, he was privy to the knowledge that Draco was snogging some girl while everybody else was running around in a worried, anxious mess. Harry and Ron had been trailing suspicious house elves and Healers. Hermione was pouring over every book she could find. Remus was pretending to be okay with everything while secretly harboring a painful hope that his nephew would be okay. Sirius was acting as though nothing was unnatural in the world, while privately falling apart. And Draco, the reason everybody was in such a frenzy, was off with some girl! At first, Harry was rather annoyed. He had somehow started worrying about his godbrother, got it into his head that he had to save him and everything, only to find out that Draco was having a good ol' time.

He had no idea whatsoever who the girl could be, which was really a thickheaded stupidity on his part, given that he had seen the looks between Draco and Hermione long ago. The first to come to mind was Pansy, but he banished that idea with the fact that he already knew Draco didn't like the pug-faced witch outside of public scrutiny. Next, he considered Zabini's sister. She had only been mentioned once, but Remus or Sirius did say that she came by once in awhile to play Quidditch with him. Harry had no idea how old she was, but she was really the only other female that had been mentioned in connection with Draco. It wasn't until Hermione had left the room looking upset and Draco had run off, looking concerned and angry at the same time that he figured it out. Realization and stupidity came to the forefront of his mind, and he wasn't sure if he was angry that his best friend had been snogging his godbrother, and former enemy, or if he was just the tiniest bit happy for them. Given the fact that he had already been noticing their oddly physically comfortable relationship, he should have had some sort of assumption that they would act on it sometime, but the idea that they actually had still sort of stunned him.

The way they looked at each other, how Draco talked to her, just all around how they were together, he never really expected it of Draco. But then, he still sort of thought of him as Malfoy on occasion, forgetting that it was all a show. This new Draco, he was a real puzzle though, one that Harry had a hard time figuring out. Compassion and love, romantic interest and relationships, they all seemed out of Draco's grasp. Especially because of his circumstances now. What with death waiting on the doorstep, biding his time and checking his watch every few moments.

Harry had slowly grown to accept Draco. Perhaps not as much as a brother should. They weren't incredibly close or even what he would call friends. But their was a mutual acceptance of one another and he liked it that way. He wanted Draco to get better, he wanted him to live a long life. Harry felt as though he might need Draco's help in defeating Voldemort and for that they would need time. But that was one thing Draco didn't have, and while everybody seemed to be working on it, they weren't getting far. Part of him could understand Draco's sudden connection with Hermione. Her being the only person there with him through it all, the only one who seemed level headed and real with him. It made sense that they would begin to feel something for each other, which was why everything that Draco said didn't seem to make much sense. Harry had seen it in him, had seen the emotion in his eyes when it involved Hermione. So why did he speak about love and sex as if it were an emotionless connection between two people who just wanted to satisfy their needs? That wasn't what he had with Hermione, he could deny it all he wanted, but Harry could see the underlying emotion. Was it love? He couldn't say for sure, but he was quite convinced it was.

Ron was still very much confused. He kept looking over at the door with a questioning expression. Harry didn't want to explain it to him just yet, feeling it would cause more problems. Rising from his seat, he decided he was going to have to talk to Draco. Most of their conversations in the past were vague or had only to do with the destruction of Voldemort and taking care of Sirius and Remus when it was all over. But Harry accepted the fact that he was going to have to discuss his best friend with his former enemy. Hermione was the smartest person Harry knew, she was kind and protective and all that he could ask for in a friend. If she thought that Draco meant something more than what they had known him to be, if she loved him for some reason unseen by Harry, then he would accept that. It would take some getting used to, but he wouldn't deny the relationship. Some dark part of his mind told him that Draco was dying, so this could be his last chance at love. He didn't care for the notion, wanted to shake it out of his head, but couldn't.

"Harry," Sirius called, as if telling him not to go and interrupt.

Harry looked over at him, knowing that his godfather and Remus were both rather happy that Draco had run after Hermione. He knew that both of them had high hopes that the two would get together, but they obviously hadn't thought it through much. "You do realize that if they get together and fall in love, one of them is going to be heartbroken in the end if it doesn't turn out the way we all hope it will, don't you? You know that he's willing to give up his life in exchange for Voldemort's defeat, without a second thought to it? Even before he found out what his condition meant. That he was probably telling you all of that because he didn't want to get close to her, didn't want to break her heart, didn't want to have another reason to live." It dawned on him when he was speaking, like the tip of his wand illuminating before his eyes. Draco was just looking out for Hermione, and sacrificing himself. Harry stared at them, watching as their dawning appear. "And right now, he's probably telling her that they can't happen. He's giving up his only chance at finding love before he dies. Because he's going to die either way. If it isn't from his mind, then it's from his own selflessness in the war." Harry swallowed, "You want him to find love, and you want them to live happily ever after. But the way you talked about it right now, that all had to do with futures. He doesn't think he _has_ a future," he told them emphatically, suddenly feeling both angry and upset with them.

"We kept telling him to wait for love and marriage," Sirius mumbled, his eyes falling.

"He doesn't think he'll live that long," Remus said, his jaw clenching.

"He's never planned to live that long. Before her, he never even considered love," Harry told them, angry for Draco instead of at him. "He's already in love with her. That's obvious enough. But reminding him that he's never going to be able to have a future with her probably sent him over the edge." Harry shook his head, scowling.

"We didn't mean to..." Remus sighed, "I walked in on them yesterday and they were getting quite... _intimate_. It would have been even worse if she got pregnant and didn't have him around later. We were only looking out for both of them," he tried to explain.

Harry grimaced at the word 'intimate'. Somehow, the idea of his godbrother and a girl he often considered his sister, just seemed utterly wrong. He didn't want to think of them in _those_ instances. He wanted to pretend that the most they ever did was stare at each other adoringly and hold hands at a respectable distance. Which was ridiculous. Harry knew what boyfriends and girlfriends did, and it wasn't what he blindly hoped Draco and Hermione would do. He shook his head, choosing to ignore the idea of Hermione and Draco doing anything intimate. Focusing back on the main problem, he frowned at his godfather and Remus. "Yeah, well you managed to make it worse." Crossing his arms, Harry sighed. "Look, I realize that we all want to save him. We're all hoping for some kind of miracle to change this, but... We have to remember that we might not get that. He doesn't believe it'll happen, so we all really have to stop talking as if it will. It bothers him." He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes moving away from them. "Despite the fact that we all keep pretending a cure has been found and he's going to outlive all of us, he doesn't think so. So... I guess we all just need to remember that," he mumbled.

"Wait... Draco's in love with... who?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed and his mouth gaping in confusion.

Harry exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes up and shaking his head. "Hermione, Ron. Draco is in love with Hermione," he told him, bracing himself for an explosion.

Ron's eyes bugged for a moment and his complexion became a bright red. "AND HE WAS DOING **WHAT** WITH HERMIONE?" he shouted, rising from his seat. Harry felt that was a much better reaction than could be expected. If he was focusing more on the fact that Draco and Hermione were snogging, perhaps he wouldn't get into the "_Draco __**Malfoy **is evil!_" and such. "AND WHERE THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU TWO?" Ron shouted at Remus and Sirius angrily, crossing his arms and glaring at them as if they had somehow made Draco a hormonal teen with feelings for Hermione.

Harry decided to leave it to Remus and Sirius to deal with, feeling a smug happiness that it was a small bit of revenge for putting him through such an uncomfortable conversation about sex and intimacy. He walked out the door, chuckling lightly when he heard his godfather and Remus stuttering out a response behind the swinging white dining room door. He looked up the stairs, frowning in hopes that Draco hadn't already messed everything up. He took the stairs two at a time, his hand running over the mostly smooth banister, a chip in the wood causing a scraping feel down the middle of his palm. He hissed but ignored it, hurrying on to see that Draco's room was empty. He made his way down to Hermione's and wasn't sure what to do. Shifting around on his feet, his sweaty palms running up and down his pant legs, he lifted a fist to knock and hesitated.

He opened his mouth to call out to them, but then found himself faltering. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to make this better? He couldn't promise Draco that he was going to live, and he certainly couldn't assure him that loving and losing was better than never loving at all. He had his own scars from losing those he loved, and he couldn't lie and say that he felt any better about them now. But he didn't think Draco should give up so soon, either. And Hermione... she was tough, she would get through it. Oh, who was he kidding? Hermione could be completely emotional when it came to people she cared about and he wasn't sure if she could handle losing someone she was in love with, rather than just loved. After all she'd done for him so far though, was there really any point in going back now? Making up his mind, he decided he was going to talk to Draco about it all, but then he heard their voices and he accepted the fact that he was an eavesdropper far too often.

"What if I don't want to? What if I... What if I can handle not being the center of attention?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking and almost desperate.

"And what about after?" Draco replied, thickly. "What about when these nightmares finish me off? Or when I'm not just falling apart and stuck in a bed, but completely immobile and unable to do anything on my own? Then what? You'll just sit by me, holding my limp hand until I'm finally gone?" he asked, his voice raising a little. Harry gulped, knowing that if he were in the same place, he would hate knowing what he may very well become over time. "I'm sorry. But d'you really want that for yourself? Because I don't want that for you," Draco told her, compassionately.

Harry found a new respect for Draco, though he still firmly believed that his godbrother was making a mistake. It would be hard, but what wasn't in the world anymore? At least he would have Hermione, somebody to be there to hold his hand. Why wasn't that enough? Harry would have been happy to know that somebody cared enough to be there through it all with him. It would be hard. To see them sitting there beside him, clutching his hand and staring at him in desperate hope, but at least there would be someone there. He wouldn't be alone, and wasn't that what everybody feared? Being alone and having nobody there to care or love them.

Draco had lived most of his life in loneliness, but now he had a whole house caring for him. And maybe it was because he wasn't used to having those around him worry and fuss that he didn't want to put that need for company on them. But they were there, and they weren't willing to leave. And Harry wanted to shout at him, shake him until he understood, they weren't going anywhere. No matter how much he lied for their benefit, whether he told them to sod off or locked himself up in his room. They'd be waiting there, understanding of his fear and his selfless need to make them feel better before himself. Once more, Harry was struck with the fact that perhaps Draco really was starting to matter to him. Maybe a little more like a brother than he had ever expected.

"I'm not going to lose you," Hermione whispered, her voice shaking but full of hard determination. Had the area not been so quiet and still, Harry wouldn't have heard her. "Whatever this is, you can stop it and you can tell me that you're not willing for it to go farther, and I'll respect that. But don't think for one second, Draco, that I'm going to let you haul off and die on me," she told him. Harry smiled despite the sadness of the whole affair, and felt quite proud of Hermione for being her confident and stubborn self, even in the face of deaths bony, reaching hand.

"I love you, but I'm letting you go," Draco breathed back, his own voice shaky in his resolve.

Harry felt his chin fall, his heart going out to them both. He had known it was love and still, hearing the words, it was a mild shock. But then, those that followed him weren't, he knew Draco would try to let her go. He wondered if Hermione would fight it, if she would tell him that whether he was letting go didn't matter, because she wasn't. But there was no reply, no words shot back at him. And when he heard the broken sob, he knew it was his best friend, her heart broken and perhaps even her stubborn nature put away for the moment. There were few things he was certain about in life, but one of them was that Hermione would never step down on something that truly mattered. His world was shaken when he realized that Hermione was not as rigid in her nature as he thought she was. He imagined his godbrother was probably rocking her right now, lapping up the last of the moments he would have to love her.

Harry's face felt wet and he lifted his palm to wipe at it in confusion, only to find that he had been crying. Just a couple tears, shock and understanding dripped from his eyes. He pushed them away, blinking quickly, before he backed up and stared at the dark wood door before him, wondering what he should do. If he left them to deal with it on their own, would anything get done? He leaned back against the wall, his head turned back and his eyes half closed as he continued to stare at the door. Perhaps he could act as though he hadn't noticed the way Draco ran after Hermione, and instead tell him that he just wanted to talk to him about what had happened a few days past, when Ron and he had gone to check out the Healer. He fell into his thoughts, trying to devise a way to interrupt without being too obvious.

He must have been thinking longer than he knew though, because the door suddenly opened and Draco came out. Harry startled, only managing to see a curled up Hermione, fast asleep in her bed, before Draco quietly shut the door and turned to him, a hesitant look on his face. Harry sighed, swallowing thickly, and hating that the ideas he had for explaining his being there had completely evaded him. Finally, without painting the truth to be anything better, he said, "You're making a mistake."

Draco's jaw clenched for a moment and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his eyes thinning as he stared at Harry. For that moment, he reminded Harry of the old Draco, or even the new and more calculating and manipulative one. Though Harry had seen a more loving and real side of Draco, he knew that the mind that went along with the seventeen year old son of Sirius Black was one to be careful around. He was creative and always thought a step before everyone else. Like chess, he knew his opponents move before they even made it. Harry could practically see the cogs of his mind moving and turning to come up with a response that would generate what he wanted to hear after. But then... the mask fell and Harry was staring at Draco. The _real_ Draco. The one he had scarcely seen in all the time he'd known him. The one that was proud to be Sirius' son, that had a strong relationship with his uncle Remus, that dearly loved Hermione. And Harry was struck blind with how much pain radiated off of him.

"A mistake is an error in judgment caused by poor reasoning or a lack of knowledge," Draco replied, his voice mildly hoarse. "I have all the knowledge I need to know that if I were to love her and let her love me, I would be leaving behind a broken version of the girl I knew." He swallowed, staring at Harry with unveiled eyes, blood shot and riddled with unshed tears. His mouth shook as he continued, "How long would you last if you saw what I saw when I go to sleep? How much longer do you think I have? It wasn't long ago that I was half blind and dying on the inside. Time doesn't wait for us, it drags us along even when we don't want it to."

Draco shook his head, a tear managing to escape his eye and falling down his cheek, first quick and then slowing as it met equal with the line of his mouth. "I've only ever loved three people in my life, one is dead, the other is falling apart, and the last I won't allow to become a shell of the person I know. You think I don't want to pretend this isn't happening? That I don't want to hold her like I have all the tomorrow's I could ever want?" he asked thickly.

He tightened his jaw again, his expression rigid and rather cold. "You're going to thank me one day, when she's older and married to some guy who hasn't a nightmare since he was a kid. You're going to tell my dad that you were happy I sacrificed those last few days with her. Because she's going to have a chance now, and its not going to be nearly as hard if she manages to just let me go now," said the Martyr in disguise, a sad but accepting tone to his voice.

Harry stared at him, his throat tight and burning, his eyes stinging with the tears he refused to let out. "Or maybe I'll curse you for giving up so quick. Maybe I'll tell your dad that you should have fought harder, because the rest of us were willing to fight with you. Maybe I'll reassure Hermione that while the boy she loved died, at least he loved her back. Even if he was pretending it didn't happen, even if he hid in the shadows, waiting for death to just finish him off, it was still there. Because whether you want to hide it or not, you love her. And I don't care if it hurts, or it's hard to know that one day you're not going to see her. Because having that, even for one moment, is enough, Draco." Harry shook his head, his hands clenching and releasing by his sides. "If you were to die right now, this second, wouldn't you want her there? Wouldn't you want her to hold your hand, to kiss you and tell you she loves you?" he asked, staring at him with thin, accusing eyes.

Draco shook his head, another tear escaping his angry, fierce eyes. "And have her remember the look of death in my eyes? Have her cradling me while I lay limp?" He took a step forward, his body taut with anger. "I've seen death, Harry. I've seen the blood and the anguish. I've heard the screaming and I've felt the tears. I know what it's like to see someone you love die and not have the ability to save them or help them in anyway." Harry went still, feeling his stomach twist and tighten as he remembered the sheer agony of Elly's death before him once more. "You think I want to put Hermione through that? You think I want her to tear herself up over the fact that all she could do was tell me she cared and hold my hand?" He glared at Harry, forcing a few more tears out without meaning to. "If I live through destroying Voldemort and Lucius, I'm going to leave her. I'm going to die somewhere where none of you are, just so I don't have to see the expressions on your faces. D'you understand that, Harry? _Can_ you?" he asked, his voice shaking and honest.

Harry shook his head, his eyes falling as a few tears fell down his cheeks. "I've been facing death since I was eleven, Draco, just like you. But... no, I can't understand what it's like to know what you know, feel what you feel." He straightened up, lifting his eyes. "But I know what it's like to lose people you care about, to see those you look up to fall at the hands of others." He sighed, his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep calm. "You want to be selfless, and that's probably the right thing to do. But sometimes, we're allowed to be selfish, and this is one of those times, Draco. You're dying," he said simply, his hand shaking by his side. "You're dying and maybe there's nothing we can do, but... but we can be there. You don't know what you'll be doing if you leave Sirius. He's... he's more fragile than he seems." Harry shook his head, swallowing thickly. "Imagine if you were in their place. If Sirius or Remus or Hermione were dying instead of you. How far would you go to be there for them? To care for them? To make sure that they knew you loved them?" he asked, staring at him directly. "Time may be dragging you away, but love is simply trying to pick you up from the ground." Harry licked his lips, feeling nervous now as the tension began to ease away and the anger was replaced with acceptance.

"I can't live your life for you, Draco. I can't make your decisions for you. But I know that if I were where you are, I wouldn't give it all up. You've got a dad who wants to be there for you through it all, an uncle who refuses to give up hope, and a girl who would lay her life on the line for you. Maybe it's time you stop running away from it, and just let them walk with you."

Feeling as though he said all he could, Harry turned and began making his way to his own room, his heart heavy and his head spinning with all that had happened that morning. His hand was on the handle of the door when he heard Draco say his name. He turned back to him, seeing a nervous Draco Black was perhaps the oddest thing he'd ever witnessed and had he not been so melancholy, maybe he would have smiled.

"Thank you," his godbrother said quietly, before turning around and walking to his own room.

Sighing, Harry opened the door and escaped into his bedroom. He dragged his feet over to the bed and then fell back onto it, relishing in the comfort provided in the thick, cold blankets. Crawling up the bed, he smiled lightly. For the first time since he arrived, there was a small bit of relaxation surrounding him. Everything had been so on edge and worrisome. It was still there, that concern and fear of how things would turn out, but for this moment, he wanted just to lay in the quiet of the room. His shoulders relaxed, his body sunk farther into the bed and his arm pulled one of the fluffy, cool pillows over to him, sticking it beneath his head. Having not been touched all morning, it was chilly against his warm cheek. His eyes felt heavy as he laid his head down and he found himself thinking a nap would be nice. If he lived with the Dursley's still, he'd never be allowed a nap. He smiled, he definitely wasn't at the Dursley's. He was home. It may not be perfect, in fact it was very imperfect. But it was home, and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. With that thought, his mind drifted and the sandman whisked him away to a world of dreams.

Awhile later, Harry woke to find Hermione sitting beside him, her legs crossed and her fingers pulling at a loose thread on his blanket. He blinked at her, finding his glasses were askew on his face and making her appear out of focus and angular. Her frantic curls were hanging down by her face, shielding her expression from him. He reached out, pushing one half of the curtain behind her shoulder, his hand coming in contact with her damp cheek and smearing the tears over her skin. She lifted her chin an inch, her eyes finding his for just a moment. She sniffled, before shifting to lay beside him, pushing her face against his chest and holding tightly to the front of his shirt. He wasn't sure what to do, so he wrapped his free arm around her and pat her back awkwardly. She chuckled against him, but the sound was shrill and sad. He pulled her a little closer, his hand moving up and down her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Hermione was a very physically comforting person, and sometimes he forgot that she probably wanted it in return. He put his chin down on her head, her curls tickled his nose and he wrinkled it in annoyance.

"D'you want to talk about it?" he asked, inwardly cringing. He really didn't want to know about what her and Draco did... er..._ intimately_. He was really starting to hate that word. She shook her head against his chest and he sighed before he could stop himself. Luckily, she just chortled, sounding somewhat amused at his relief. "Sorry," he murmured, squeezing her lightly.

Hermione just held onto him, crying lightly against his chest, he knew, because her tears had managed to soak through and felt funny against his skin. It was rather uncomfortable, how his shirt was now stuck to him in a couple places. He didn't complain though, simply let her do what she needed to do, in hopes that somehow he was actually providing comfort. After awhile, she sniffled and let go of him, before turning onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. "I want... I want you to tell me what you and Ron have been doing. Don't say nothing, because I know something is going on. You've been watching Dizzy and I know you don't trust that Healer as much as I do. So..." She turned to him, her eyes still damp and red rimmed, while her cheeks looked puffy and wet. Her lip was red and plump from her chewing on it, and he wondered what she'd say if he told her she looked like a right mess.

Shaking it off, he sighed, knowing he probably should have told her about what happened involving the Healer awhile back. In fact, he should have told her his and Ron's plans from the very beginning. Perhaps it was annoyance that she was getting close to Draco, or maybe he just hadn't wanted to put up with all of Hermione's worries over the law and rules. In any case, he kept her in the dark for far too long. "You're right, I don't trust the Healer. Or Dizzy," he admitted. "Ron and I... we think something else is going on. I've heard Dizzy when she talks to herself, sometimes it's like there's another person there. I know that's not exactly weird, because sometimes Dobby does it too. But, with her it's like she's getting answers when she talks to herself. Answers I can't hear. And... So Ron and I decided to start investigating." He told her about the picture Ron found hidden beneath the desk in his room and the letter about how Draco could be disposed of by Lucius at any time if Walburga Black so wanted. "We guessed the 'loyal servant' that went with Elly was actually Dizzy and she's been with the Malfoy's since Elly's death. We're not sure who she's loyal too though, because she seems to care about Draco. Whenever she talks to herself, she's always saying that it's wrong how much Draco is hurting and she doesn't want to hurt him." He paused, "Maybe she's doing it, and she's just nutters. I don't know... I just don't trust her."

Hermione nodded slowly, "I don't know about Dizzy, really. She seems to want the best for Draco, but then, look at what Dobby did to give you the best. They can be very confusing, House Elves. I mean, sometimes they will do things for the better, even if it's not bettering those around them at the time." She shook her head, frowning. "What about the Healer, what have you learned on that front?" she queried.

Harry frowned, looking away. "You can't tell Sirius or Remus, or even Draco," he told her seriously, before sitting up and staring down at her. "It's important, Hermione. We have to figure this out before telling them. Because if Sirius and Remus knew, they could jump to conclusions and things could go bad really fast," he warned, his expression twisting with worry. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell her. He'd made a muck of things, he really had.

Hermione sat up, pulling her legs beneath her and crossing them once more. "I won't tell anyone, Harry," she promised, staring at him with a furrowed brow and curious eyes.

Harry sighed, nodding slowly. "After Draco's nightmare, I was... a little distraught," he understated, feeling a bit awkward after realizing just how upset he got when he saw his godbrother in such a state. He hadn't been in his regular mind scope, or perhaps then he would've seen how dangerous it was to go out hunting a Healer who appeared to be rather suspicious. But at that time, seeing what Draco had seen, and witnessing the torment he was going through after, it was just far too much. Having been through his own chilling nightmares, he knew how much they could tax a person. But his weren't so persistent or realistic, he didn't have to deal with them on a daily basis, and to know that Draco was, was just too much to take in. So he lost control and he went searching for the Healer, believing that somehow, some way, she was keeping something from them that could be vital to Draco's recovery. "And I kept thinking about Poulk and wondering what it was she was keeping secret. I don't know how I knew, I just felt like she wasn't being completely honest about everything. So Ron and I went to where her office was supposed to be..."

Hermione stared at him patiently. She sniffled, still looking quite rumpled from her emotional outburst, but looking intent on understanding what happened.

Harry inhaled deeply, preparing to tell her the whole thing. His mind wandered, collecting the memory for him to tell her in as much detail as he could, knowing she would use it all and separate it into important facts, using her abnormally intelligent mind. That one thought brought him a small smile. He felt like Hermione and him were meeting back on a level plain again, one where they were friends once more. So often lately they had been stuck in neutral, where she felt out of reach to him. Like she was with Draco and he was on the outside looking in. But now, now he was sharing his adventure with her, and she was there to help him sort it all out. His headstrong cunning, her booksmart brain, it was how it was supposed to be. Pulling himself from his nostalgia, he began retelling the afternoon that occurred with Healer Poulk.

_When the horror of witnessing Draco's nightmare slipped away it was replaced by anger, a deep, raw rage for the boy who had to see such terrorizing things. It dug into him like claws, yanking at him to do something. He nearly jumped from the floor, where he sat trying to gather himself, too out of sorts to answer Remus' questions. His legs were wobbly and unstable at first. But he ignored that and made his way out of the room. He shouted Ron's name, hoarse and ragged. His best mate showed up seconds later, looking worried and ready to fight, with his wand out and his eyes searching around frantically._

"_Get the potion, we go now," Harry told him, darkly._

_Ron nodded, not questioning it at all. He hurried down the hallway, disappearing into his bedroom and seconds later he was standing beside Harry, ready to go. Harry used the banister to get downstairs, still feeling groggy and nearly limp with the aftereffects of the potion and what he had seen. They made it to the fireplace and, ignoring Remus' questions, they flooed away. It was time to pay a visit to a certain Healer, Harry had a lot of damning questions._

_Ron kept looking over at him, hesitant and questioning, but he kept his worries to himself. Harry caught his reflection in a window as he practically stomped his way down the hallway they arrived in, looking for a receptionist or somebody who could give him directions to Poulk's office. His complexion was greenish, while his emerald eyes had darkened to glittering forest green orbs. A scowl sat viciously on his mouth, but he found he couldn't rid it from himself. His shoulders were thick and taut with his anger and he didn't try to shake it off, feeling empowered by it rather than uncomfortable. His stomach was no longer twisting and turning, but instead hard and rock solid with the weight of what he was thinking of doing. It was against the law, it was perhaps even cruel forcing someone to tell them the truth about anything, and maybe he wasn't thinking clearly. Who was he kidding? Of **course** he wasn't thinking clearly, he was distressed and far too worried about a boy who shouldn't matter to him at all. _

_He tried to convince himself that he was doing all of this for Sirius, to help his godfather and keep him from losing his only son. But part of him, a small part, buried deep inside his heart, where he tried to keep it hidden, rather cared about Draco. He saw in him what he might have become, or perhaps even a part that was alike. They had both lost those who were close to them, in ways that were both similar and not. He'd lost his mother to Lucius Malfoy, which of course related to Voldemort and his injustice to Sirius by making him the scapegoat for Harry's parents murders. It was entwined in a way that broke two boys worlds to pieces, and Harry recognized the person Harry could very well have become in Draco. He could have been that hard and unfeeling, that masked and cold, hiding all of his real emotions and making a separate personality to keep himself alive and make sure his vendetta thrived._

_It was a hard and lonely life, and while Harry had grown up alone and with a family that hated him, just like Draco, he hadn't picked up the darkness and the hate like Draco had. He instead let himself dream of a family that loved him, and hoped that one day he would find peace. Perhaps Draco had dreamt of that, too, Harry didn't know, he only knew that Draco worked only now for his vengeance. Maybe it had spilled over onto Harry though, because as he made his way down the hallway, a woman at a desk in his sights, he couldn't help but think that if this Healer had anything to do with Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions. He was angry and anxious, worried about a godbrother that had previously meant the end of his dream family, and moving on a buzz of adrenaline that could very well get him hurt or killed._

_The woman at the desk looked up as he and Ron approached, a smile in place until she saw their expressions. Her smile slowly eased away, to be replaced by hesitant fear. "C-Can I help you, lads?" she queried, trying to sound chipper and failing horribly._

"_Healer Poulk," Ron ground out, his voice growly. Harry turned to him noticing a few similarities. While his complexion wasn't green, it was so white that his freckles stood out in serious contrast. His posture was rigid and tall, making him look much stronger than he had before. Usually he looked rather lanky, possibly even a little awkward with all his height, but now he appeared at ease with his strength and length. His expression was tight and commanding though, instead of scared and out of place, making Harry think he would be a much better Auror than most expected._

_The receptionist furrowed her brow. "Healer Poulk," she repeated, her eyes falling and then picking back up in confusion. "You can't have a meeting, Jacob hasn't been in for quite some time. He went out of town for awhile and has been sending post to tell us he'll be back soon. But I'm sure--"_

"_He?" Harry repeated, his temper raising with each time she repeated the foul indication of the Healers gender. "Healer Poulk is a man... named **Jacob**," he said, grinding his teeth together._

"_Of course," the receptionist replied, giving a soft chuckle at them not knowing. "What did you think?"_

"_Sterlange," Harry said, making it sound like a curse._

"_You were looking for Sterlange?" she asked, leaning in a bit, her brows raising. "Or she didn't explain about Jacob?" she wondered, confused._

"_There's a Sterlange here then?" Ron asked quickly, looking hopeful._

"_Of course, she's the new secretary for Jacob, though I don't know **what** she could be doing. He's been gone for two and a half months now and she hardly ever leaves his office on any errands," she gossiped, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Real odd one that one. Outside of her lunch breaks, I've only saw her leave once, with a nice looking fella who looked to be frazzled and upset."_

"_When was that? What'd the bloke look like?" Ron shot questions at her, sounding like he was interrogating instead of wondering out of curiosity._

_She tipped her head, blonde hair falling over her shoulder. She frowned in thought and then nodded, smiling as she remembered him. "Tall, wide shoulders, beautiful amber eyes, short brown hair, streaked with grey, rather shabby clothes--"_

"_Remus," Harry breathed, swallowing thickly. His eyes fell as he thought if over, trying to figure it all out. "Sterlange, is she here?"_

_The receptionist sighed, nodding slowly, "She should be. Her lunch break is coming up, she doesn't take it with the rest of us. She usually floo's out of the office and over to somebody else's for an hour. You should be able to catch her..."_

_She trailed off as Harry and Ron turned to begin running, picking a hallway and hurrying. Harry remembered Remus mentioning that it was the first office he came upon, which is why he picked it. They tried the door, only to find it was locked. Ron rattled the handle and then turned to look at Harry, wondering if he had an idea. Thinking quickly, he was reminded of Hermione and the spell she most likely would have used. "**Alohomara**!" he exclaimed. The door opened but they weren't able to get through it, as it flew back just as they said it and the woman they recognized as Draco's so-called Healer came rushing out, bowling them over as she went. Ron hit the ground, but he was up almost as soon as it happened. Harry's feet got tangled but he only hit the wall, before he had his wand out and was chasing after her._

_She was running down the hall, her wand hanging from one long fingered hand, her robes dancing around her legs. She kept turning back to see what they were doing, her slate blue eyes glittering malevolently, and Harry got the feeling she enjoyed the chase, enjoyed the whole idea of them needing information from her, as if she wanted to be caught, wanted to fight. He could hear the clomping of Ron right behind him, chasing after her, too. The hallway was rather narrow, so they couldn't hurry beside each other. She didn't go for the floo like he expected her, but instead made her way for the stairs and rushed through a door. Harry got to the door before it even closed, but felt a restless tickle on his neck as if warning him he was running into danger so he backed up a pace, just enough to mix the red spell that smashed into the wood of the door inches in front of him._

_Growling in annoyance, he looked down the stairwell to see her jumping half a flight of stairs, her head turned away. He took the chance and ran forward, hopping off the top of a stairwell to the bottom and aiming his wand down at her fast form, taking aim and shooting off a stunner. He only wanted her to be knocked out, she wouldn't be worth anything dead. The startling thought that he wasn't exactly scared of her dying made his stomach twist a little tighter._

_His spell missed by mere centimeters and she shot a disgruntled look at him that was quickly replaced by a cackling laugh and a smirk of victory on her part. He saw another spell follow his and noticed that Ron too had taken a chance and followed him down. His spell grazed her shoulder, but she ran on as if it was nothing, shaking it off. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but he thought he caught sight of a tear in her robes and the glisten of blood. They were chasing her once more and gaining ground, if only because of her boots. It was too hard to shoot spells with the jumbling of feet on stairs however and she wasn't far enough ahead to take the time to turn._

_Before Harry could think it through too logically, he had launched himself at her, with three or four flights of stairs still ahead of them. His hands caught the back of her robes and his body slammed into hers. They flew into the wall in front of her with an echoing thump that wasn't as loud as it hurt. He pushed the pain aside however and tried to pull her back, thinking he could use his height and strength against her. She was expecting this though, because she reared back as soon as he moved his body away from her and then, in a rather insane move, she pushed them backwards until they were tumbling down the stairs. Harry manged to shield the top of his head with his arm and when he felt something cushioning the back of his head, he realized that they had hit Ron, too, and his best friends stomach was keeping his skull from cracking open on the stone stairs._

_They fell in a lump of limbs and robes, pained shouts echoing up the staircase. He could feel her fingers tearing at his arm as he kept one around her to make sure she didn't manage to get away while they fell. She had long, jagged fingernails that ripped open his flesh, making it sting. The stairs were rather dirty, leftovers from peoples shoes, and Harry found himself closing his eyes so the dirt wouldn't get into them. When they finally came to a stop, which felt like an eternity later, they all took a moment to groan over the pain they'd just felt. It wasn't long before Sterlange was up and trying to get away though. Harry tried to tighten his arm around her, but she manged to escape his grasp and turned her wand on them. Ron and Harry lifted theirs in retaliation and a burst of light exploded from all three, they were each running to get away from enemy fire however and hadn't managed to hit each other._

_After the light faded, they found her running for the exit to the property outside and hurried to chase after, hoping to stop her before she could try apparating. She was nearly at the door when Ron managed a good tripping hex, keeping her just inches from the door handle. She knocked her head on the door, but was still quite conscious. She turned to them, lifting her wand and smirking in a way that disconcerted Harry, making him feel more like she was in charge. "What's the matter?" she asked mockingly. "Worried over Little Black and his nightmares?" she queried maliciously. "Don't worry, it'll all be over soon," she assured, a malevolent grin appearing that had her looking dark and vicious._

"_What did you do to him?" Harry asked, stepping forward and finding his pulse was raising and the beat of his heart rushed in his ears angrily. "There's something you're not telling us, isn't there? A cure, a way to stop his nightmares. Something!" he shouted, his wand shaking with his fury._

_She laughed, high and ringing with her enjoyment for it all. She stood up slowly, as if to reassure them she wasn't gong anywhere and then leaned back against the wall, her wand still trained on them. "Little Black is going to die coughing up blood and wishing he had never been born to my traitorous cousin or that filthy mother of his," she spat, cackling insanely as she finished. "And there isn't anything you can do about it," she assured, before her eyes became half lidded and her mouth turned up on each side, as if pursing it to keep her secret in. "Not in enough time," she whispered before winking and murmuring something under her breath._

_Harry was caught off guard when a gust of wind exploded from her wand and threw him backwards, making him land awkwardly on the stairs behind him. He groaned at the angle the stair pressed into his back and then turned his attention back to Sterlange, only to find the door closing. A cackle echoed back to him before a 'pop' reached his ears and he knew she had apparated away. Ron groaned nearby and then suddenly appeared before him, holding a hand out for him to take. Harry took the offered assistance and regained his balance. He scowled, thinking he'd never find the truth out about Sterlange and the cure for Draco._

_He and Ron trudged upstairs, thinking to go back to the floo area and return to Grimmauld. The walk was silent and taxing as their bodies seemed to ache. Their clothes were in disarray and dirt marred various parts of fabric. There was a knick above Ron's eyebrow that proved he hit the stairs or the wall at a funny angle and Harry knew numerous parts of him would be bruised and achy for days, if not weeks. Even his hair hurt. _

_As they stomped back toward the floo network, the receptionist called out to them. They turned to her, still scowling. She shrunk back but then regained her confidence and said, "I'm guessing your business with Sterlange didn't go well." She cleared her throat, lifting her shoulders and nodding. "Well, perhaps knowing where it is she goes on her breaks would help," she offered._

_Ron and Harry looked at each other and then gave her a jerky nod._

"_I thought it was odd myself, I mean he's a married man," she told them, her voice a whisper as if to keep her gossip just to them. "He's very powerful though, and I figured that was how she got the job in the first place. Jacob has never wanted a private secretary, none of the other Healers have them. Everything goes through me," she said proudly. "But then Sterlange showed up and announced her new job and how nobody was allowed in the office without her permission. And then she curiously began disappearing around the same time and so..." She smiled lightly." I did a little investigating of my own and overheard where it was she was going..." She drug it out, likely for dramatic purposes._

_Ron wasn't patient and huffily said, "Well?" in a tone that made her flinch._

_She smiled, her eyebrows lifting before she said simply, "Malfoy Manor!" After that, they spent as long as they could milking the gossipy receptionist for all the information she had on Sterlange and how she came to be at their business. They also learned about Jacob Poulk and came to their own conclusion that the man was likely dead, giving Sterlange the ability to move in and take over his office. Whoever Sterlange was, she was working against them and going to great lengths to cause or help along Draco's demise._

Hermione was scowling when he was done his retelling and had at some point began pacing the floor. Her hands were wound up tightly in fists and her face was flushed with anger. Her wild, curly hair swayed behind her, somehow managing to look just as dangerous as she did when she was upset. Harry simply sat, waiting for her to begin lecturing him on keeping it quiet and not telling Sirius or Remus about what had happened. She came to a sudden stop then and turned to stare at him, her mouth dropping and her complexion paling. "His potion," she whispered, his voice cracking. "What if... What if it's doing something to him?" she worried.

Harry's brows lifted and his eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that. It had been doing so much good for Draco, making him look and feel good that he didn't think it could possibly do anything to worsen him. He jumped from the bed then, rushing out of the room without replying. He was running down the hallway, nearly knocking over Sirius as he went. He threw open Draco's bedroom door, his throat burning with the need to shout and his heart racing in fear. "The potion," he yelled, looking around frantically. "Did you take it? Where is it? Give it here," he exclaimed, moving around and searching the room for it.

Draco stared at him as if he were an imbecile and then motioned to the side table, his head tipped and his brow cocked. "Haven't had it yet. Not until I go to bed. It's a little early for that, don't you think?" he replied, sounding mildly amused.

Ignoring him, Harry picked it up and then turned to Hermione. "Can you figure out what's in it?" he asked, looking shaken and worried.

"Why?" Sirius demanded, a frown appearing as he walked into the bedroom, looking suspicious and worried.

Harry inhaled deeply, worrying over how mad everybody would be when he explained it all to them.

Draco sighed, looking exasperated. "I told you to forget about the hero theatrics, Harry," he told him, sounding only mildly irritated, having figured out that Harry must have done what Draco warned him not to.

Harry shrugged, a small smile appeared. "You should've known I wouldn't listen."

"What's going on here?" Sirius interrupted, looking back and forth from Harry to Draco. His foot began tapping and his hands rested on his hips. Harry thought he reminded him faintly of Mrs. Weasley, if only he had a wooden spoon in his hand. He had to smother a chuckle over that and then reminded himself that he was about to get in a whole lot of trouble. In some demented way, he found that idea of his godfather punishing him to be a rather "normal" thing that would happen in any family unit were one to act up. That thought made him feel a little more like he had found a place with Draco and Sirius. Clearing his throat, he prepared to tell Sirius about all that had happened and exactly who Sterlange really was.

* * *

**A/N **_I'm soo sorry for the late update, guys! I really never meant to let it sit for so long. But no worries, I will be updating more regularly than that. I just started a new job however, so it won't be every few days like it once was. I won't be forgetting this story, or any of my others though, so have no fears! I hope you enjoyed this!_

**New stories to check out:**

**_Secret Life_ **- _another Dramione of mine! When Hermione goes missing, Harry and Ron are called upon to find her, since they are Head Auror's and her so-called best friends. But as they delve into her life, they find that she has a husband and a daughter they knew nothing about. Trying to find her while simultaneously trying to learn all they can about a girl who they thought they inside out, they must also face the wrath of her worried and angry husband, Draco Malfoy. The chapters go back and forth in point of view, so you learn how Harry is doing and what he's thinking and finding, while the next chapter will center on how Draco is coping and what he thinks is amiss. There are also interludes that center around how Draco and Hermione came to be. It's a great story, though I could be biased, lol. Hope you read it:D_

**_The Werwolf Tamer_ **- _my first time travel story, but it isn't like any you've like read before. Hermione purposely goes back in time to change it after losing everyone who matters, most importantly her husband (Remus). When she returns, she plans to start her program from her current year in the past, called The Werewolf Project. Something she and Remus created together that makes it possible for her to speak to and tame werewolves on the full moon! It's dramatic, mysterious and has a lot of romance and friendship interwoven through it all. Personally, I belive it's a masterpiece, but once again, I coudl be biased, lol. I'd love for you all to come check it out:D_

_And, of course, the vote for next chapter's POV:_

_**Hermione  
Draco  
Ron  
Remus  
Sirius  
Lucius**_

_Thank you for reading, I appreciate your loyalty to the story. Please review!_

_Much Love,  
-**Amanda**_


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